Page 20 of Santa's Girl
He chuckled. “Yeah, we can fix that. Come on.”
“Wait—are you a waiter?”
“Not even close.” He winked and steered me toward a swinging door at the back. The kitchen smelled like heaven—grease, onions, something fried. A portly man in a chef’s hat was flipping burgers on a griddle that looked older than me.
“McDaniel!” Jinx called. “Got a hungry one.”
“Don’t ask,” he murmured when I lifted an eyebrow.
I stepped forward. “Can I get a thick cheeseburger, well-done, caramelized onions, mushrooms, double bacon, and an extra plate of fries?”
The chef turned, eyebrows climbing. “Yes ma’am. Skinny as you are, that’s a hell of an order.”
He grinned. “Give me ten.”
“Take your time,” I said, trying not to drool as the smell hit me.
Jinx led me back out through the side door and onto a narrow hallway that opened toward the main room again. “So,” he said, “welcome to the Iron Forge.”
“The Iron Forge MC,” I repeated, reading the sign again. “You’re a motorcycle club.”
He nodded. “Been around a long time. We’re family, not a gang. Folks here either ride, wrench, or help keep the place running. People also refer to us as the Appalachian Outlaws.”
“And Bear?”
“That’d be your host,” he said with a grin. “Our president. Road name’s Bear.”
“President?” I blinked. “As in… the big guy? The boss?”
“Yep.” Jinx glanced toward the bar where Bear stood talking.
“That sounds like a man who chops wood with his bare hands.”
“Pretty much,” Jinx said, laughing. “His cabin’s on the edge of club property. Private. He keeps to himself.”
“Explains the décor,” I muttered.
Jinx shot me a sideways look. “Don’t take it personal if he’s rough around the edges. That’s just him You’ll get used to it.”
I smiled, a little uncertainly. “We’ll see.”
He grabbed two pool cues off the wall. “You play?”
“Badly.”
“Perfect. I like an easy win.”
“Wow. Confident.”
“Optimistic.” He gestured toward the table. “C’mon, Snowbird.”
I rolled my eyes but followed. He showed me how to chalk the cue and line up the shot, stepping behind me, one hand guiding my elbow, his breath warm against my ear. “Keep it low,” he murmured. “Smooth through.”
My pulse did an embarrassing little skip. I sank the ball clean and turned to him. “Beginner’s luck.”
“Sure.” He smiled, and for the first time in a long time, the attention felt nice—simple, easy. Not like Huntley with his perfectly rehearsed charm. Jinx just seemed… fun.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I caught Bear watching from across the room. His expression unreadable. He said something to one of the men, but his gaze didn’t move.
