Page 29 of Driving Whiskey Wild
“Can’t,” Bullet said, and went to the other end of the bar to take an order, ignoring Bear’s and Bones’s comments. After filling the order and wiping up a spilled beer, he returned to answer his brothers’ curious gazes.
“You never miss a Sunday ride,” Bear said. “What’s up?”
A guy down the bar raised his empty glass. Bullet said, “Busy,” to Bear and took care of the customer. He didn’t know why he wasn’t telling his brothers about wanting to see Finlay, but figured it went hand in hand with not wanting to work tonight. They’d just gone through a family upheaval about the bar when Bear had backed out of working there. They didn’t need to go through another one, and that fed the guilt eating away at him.
“With what?” Bear pushed, his eyes narrowing. “What’s more important than going for a ride?”
“Let it go,” Bullet warned.
“What’s got your balls in a sling?” Bear asked. “You’re even more of a prick than usual. Not getting any lately?”
“Fuck off. I just don’t want to be here tonight,” he admitted.
Bear and Bones exchanged a confused glance, which irritated him even more. That passive-aggressive glance alone showed the difference between Bullet and his brothers. Had one of them said to him what he’d just said to them, he’d tell them to get it off their chest or shut the fuck up.
“Why not?” Bones asked. He was the most even-keeled of them all, smart, careful, methodical in his thinking. While he’d be there in a heartbeat to back up his brothers if there was trouble, his gut instincts led him to figure things out mentally before acting physically.
He was surprised Bones hadn’t put two and two together, but then again, there had never been a woman Bullet would rather be with more than he wanted to spend time at the bar.
“Doesn’t matter,” Bullet said. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t see Finlay tomorrow, and he didn’t understand why it was messing with his head to have left her tonight and come to the place that had been his safe haven for all these years. Until Finlay, Bullet’s life had been easy. Black and white. Things were either fine, or they were ass backward and needed to be fixed. But Finlay brought a world of emotions and middle grounds he didn’t know what to do with.
“Well, who were you with?” Bear asked. “What were you doing before you came here? Maybe we can figure it out.”
Bear was as much of an overcommunicator as Finlay. If others hurt, Bear hurt, whereas with Bullet, if someone within his circle was hurting, he stepped in and applied whatever muscle was necessary to remove that hurt from their lives.
Bones took another drink, and a slow grin spread across his lips. “A certain blonde with a knack for baking delicious cookies.”
“Ah, Finlay,” Bear teased. “Everyone’s wondering when she’s coming back with more.”
More like wondering when she’s coming back so they can leer at her. Bullet ground his teeth together.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” Bear asked. “You were fucking Finlay and you didn’t want to leave.”
Bullet reached a hand across the bar and grabbed Bear by the collar, hauling him up to eye level and sending drinks crashing to the floor. Customers casually stepped back. They knew better than to get in between Bullet and anyone.
“B!” Bones sprang to his feet, throwing an arm awkwardly between them.
“Don’t you ever talk about her that way again,” Bullet seethed through gritted teeth. “Got it?” Before Bear could respond, he tossed him backward.
Bear stumbled, laughing as he found his footing. “Dude, you’ve got it bad, and you’d better get it under control.”
The music came back into focus, and Bullet saw Red making a beeline for them. She looked like hell on wheels, her eyes narrow, her black boots clomping with each determined step. She was the epitome of a biker’s old lady. Tough as balls and unafraid of stepping into the line of fire. But her lips were tipped up at the edges, making Bullet laugh softly. She’d raised them and was used to the ups and downs of brotherhood. Like Bear, she was a talker. She knew most of their demons—but only Bones knew the truth of Bullet’s.
He slid his gaze back to the brother who had been there for him when he was hanging on to life by a thread. When he’d hidden out from the rest of his family, too ashamed to face them.
“What the hell, Bullet?” Bones stood between Bullet and Bear, staring him down in the way only he could.
He was looking so deeply into Bullet’s eyes, Bullet knew he was searching to see if the demons had returned, or if this was the normal shit that went on between brothers. Bullet shifted his gaze to Bear and said, “You a’right?”
“Always, but what the hell?” Bear picked up a few pieces of glass from the floor and set them on the bar.
“Didn’t get milk in your Cheerios this morning?” Red asked as Bullet came around the bar with a broom to clean up the mess. She shook her head at Bear, who was circling the bar, and began mopping up the counter. Her eyes found Bullet again, and she said, “Or did your baby brother open his yap about the article in the paper? I told him not to give you a hard time about that.”
“It’s all good, Red.” He eyed Bear, who made kissing sounds. Bullet cocked his arm back, feigning prepping for a fight, and they both laughed.
“For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you for helping that family, honey.” Her green eyes coasted over Bones, who was crouched on the floor, holding the dustpan for Bullet, and then they moved up to Bear, who was busy talking to a customer. By the time she looked at Bullet again, her gaze was soft and worried. “I love you guys, but my heart stops every time I see your hands fisted.”
Bullet finished sweeping the mess into the dustpan and handed the broom to Bones, who carried the broom and dustpan behind the bar. When he was out of earshot, Bullet stepped closer to Red, lowering his voice. “Leading with your heart? Is it supposed to confuse the hell out of you?”
A warm smile lit up her eyes. “Only if you’re doing it right, honey.”
Several hours later, after closing the bar and telling himself to drive home, he found himself parked in front of Finlay’s house, staring at his cell phone. The curtains were drawn, and the house was quiet as the night. He knew he should turn around and bide his time, see her tomorrow, as he’d asked to. But he craved her in his arms, needed to see her sweet face, to hear how her evening had gone.
He lowered his hand to his leg, wondering when he’d become so pussy-whipped. But the thought sent another fiery gust through his core. He wasn’t pussy-whipped. This wasn’t like that. This was bigger than anything he’d ever felt before. Bigger than life itself, and he didn’t know what to do with all the emotions blustering inside him.
Fuck it. He needed to hear her voice. He put the call through and lifted the phone to his ear.
“Hi,” she said in a sleepy voice.
“Hey, lollipop.”
He listened to her breathing, could practically see her sleepy blue eyes gazing up at him, a smile curving her lips, could almost feel her cheek against his chest…
FINLAY LAY ON her back, staring up at the ceiling in the darkness of her bedroom and waiting for Bullet to say more. She’d kept herself distracted all evening. When she’d taken food to the hospital, she’d also brought more goodies for the nurses, who were happy to let Finlay stock their freezer with a few meals for Sarah. She’d gone straight from there to meet Dixie at Penny’s ice cream shop, where they’d gobbled down sundaes and made the final decisions on the kitchen renovations. Dixie had arranged for Crow to handle the appliance installations and counter modifications this week, which meant Finlay was free to work on menus and start the interviewing and hiring process. She’d almost gone to the bar to see Bullet afterward, but she didn’t want to appear too needy. Instead she’d spent the rest of the night trying to distract herself from thoughts of him. A long, hot bath hadn’t done the trick, and sitting out back had only reminded her of how close they’d become when they were there. She’d lain in her bed for the past hour, trying to sleep, but she missed him too much, and now, as silence filled the airwaves, she worried about what that silence meant.
“Aren’t you going to talk to me?” she asked, smiling to herself because Bullet was a man of very few words in person. She imagined it was even more difficult for him over the phone, since most of his communication was visual. When she could see his face, she knew in a hot second if he was sad, angry, worried, or horny.
“Just wanted to hear your voice,” he finally said. “Did I wake you?”
“No. I was lying here thinking of you.” She was met with silence again, and she closed her eyes, her pulse racing like never before. “Maybe you should come over. I can’t read your eyes over the phone.”
The line went dead, and she stared at the phone, confused. Had she upset him?
Seconds later her answer came as a knock at her front door, and she leapt from the bed, grinning like a fool as she padded down the hall in her bare feet and peered through the peephole. Bullet had one hand on the back of his neck, his eyes downcast. She couldn’t open the door fast enough. She flung it open, her heart jolting as his gaze moved swiftly up her bare legs to the words emblazoned across her chest. GOOD GIRLS SIT, BAD BITCHES RIDE. She felt her cheeks burn.
