Page 55 of The Belle and the Biker

Roxy leaves me by the bar and rushes off to deal with a couple of bikers who are shoving each other by the pool table, so I take a tray and gather up empty glasses and bottles. Queenie takes drink orders for a few minutes, but as soon as she delivers them, her attention returns to Crash.

I drop all the glasses and bottles off at the bar.

“Hey, she’s doing it again.” Tawny nudges me.

I look toward the door. Queenie’s deliberately draping herself all over Crash. Even though the whole “old lady” thing is just pretend, it’s making me so mad I could spit tacks.

It’s not even Crash’s fault. I see him elbow her away from him several times, and he keeps moving in his chair to turn his back to her.

When I think about it, I have never seen him flirt with a woman in front of me. Not once.

“Look at that ho-bag.” Tawny shakes her head. “If that were my man, I’d rearrange her face.” She pulls out a switchblade and starts cleaning under her nails, staring at Queenie the whole time.

He’s sitting on a stool by the door, jawing with Tank. From across the bar, I watch her try to throw her arms around his neck. He stands up and turns his back to her. She pouts and taps him on the arm.

“I’m trying not to attract any attention.” I turn my back on them and head over to a high top to grab an empty beer mug. “I’m a better person now, above all this.”

Tawny shrugs. “Sure, sure. Did she just kiss his neck?”

“That’s it.” I slam down the mug and storm over. Queenie’s leaning forward to give Crash a view of her cleavage. I grab her by her ponytail and yank her back away from him.

She spins around and tries to punch me, and I duck and swing. My fist lands on her nose, and there’s a sickening crunch. Blood flies everywhere. Crash throws his arms around me and hauls me off, and Tank grabs Queenie by the arm, dragging her away. The whole bar erupts in cheers.

“Fight! Fight!”

Of course, Tawny is leading the chant.

Crash takes me outside.

“Damn it!” I shake my hand. Thanks to Tawny’s training, I know how to throw a punch, but it’s impossible to do it completely pain-free. My knuckles sting, and my hand aches. “We’re supposed to be lying low, and I just shined a big ole spotlight on the both of us.”

“It’s fine.” Crash rubs his face with his hand. “You’re supposed to be my old lady, so it’s not that much of a stretch that you’d kick her ass.”

When I go back into the bar, Queenie is nowhere to be seen. Tawny high-fives me.

“Whooo!” she hollers. “You’re a badass bitch!”

The patrons in the bar break into applause, and I do a twirl and then bow deeply. It’s pretty impressive if I do say so myself. I mean, it’s not a full Texas debutante bow—those girls basically flatten out on the floor—but it’s still deep and graceful.

“Look at her,” Roxy crows. “Biker bitch bows like a debutante!”

Oh, corn fritters. I just can’t help myself.

Tawny’s smile freezes. Crash scowls at me from the doorway.

I look at him and mouth, Oops?

He walks over, throws his arm around me, and leans in. He presses his lips up against my ear. My body responds inappropriately, lighting up with burning desire.

“You are a woman of extreme contrasts. I like it, but we’re trying to do a thing here,” he murmurs into my ear. “And the thing is, lie low. Do you think you can make it through the rest of the night without punching someone in the face or acting like you just escaped from the set of ‘Steel Magnolias’?”

I rub my sore knuckles. “No promises.”

“Good Lord, you are a handful.”

“Was that a crack about my weight?” I ask suspiciously.

He snorts. “Will you quit being so damned tetchy about that? You’re the perfect shape.”

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