“So we should make it a good one,” I said, peering at the map.
I felt the soft brush of fingers across my cheek as Butch tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. Turning, I met his steady gaze. He was so close to me that I could see flecks of green in his blue eyes. It was...beautiful.He probably wouldn’t like that word, but it was the only one that fit.
I started to lean toward him, my lips closing in on his…
“Are those brownies?”
I jumped and turned to see a biker I hadn’t met yet standing at the other side of the table with a shit-eating grin on his face. He knew what he’d just interrupted.
“Damn it, Hawk. Get the hell out of here,” Butch snapped.
He did, grabbing a brownie before turning around and heading to the bar, but the moment between us was already broken. We went back to looking over the map, choosing a stopping point at a brewery on the east side of town and a spot along the beach to the west. It would send the riders all over La Playa, getting in some quality riding.
We worked out the plans for an hour, deciding that each stop along the way would offer the participants refreshments and the opportunity to exchange the card they’d drawn for an additional fee. At the end of the ride, we would host a party at the soup kitchen where we would announce the winning poker hand, or hands, depending on how many participants we had.
It was a solid plan, with Butch agreeing to secure the spots on the ride, making sure that they were manned and set up with food. I was in charge of the party at the end as well as advertising for the event. Outlaw Souls and Black Satin would pay for the prizes awarded at the end of the ride. By the time we were done, we had a solid plan.
“You really care about this, don’t you?” I asked, closing my computer and tucking it back into the bag.
“Yeah. I know the soup kitchen is important, but I have to be honest. I’m interested in the positive impact this will have for Outlaw Souls and Black Satin.”
“You really like working at the strip club, huh?”
He smiled knowingly. I guessed that my discomfort with the idea came through with my question.
“Not for the reason you’d think.” He traced his fingers along my arm as it rested on the table, sending sparks skittering along my skin. “I don’t exactly have a squeaky clean past, but Abby—that’s my boss—she doesn’t give a shit about all that. She gave me a job and treats me with respect. I like keeping the place safe for her and the girls. It’s the least I can do.”
“You’re a good man,” I said. “But would you mind if I ask—”
“You want to know what’s in my past, right?”
I tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. It shouldn’t matter what was in his past—itdidn’tmatter—but I couldn’t quite stifle my curiosity.
“Don’t worry, I haven’t killed anybody.”
I shoved his shoulder, “I didn’t think you had. I just don’t want you to think that I’m being judgy.”
“You?Never.”
I pushed my chair back, starting to stand, but his arm went around my waist, hugging me to his side and keeping me in the chair.
“I’m joking, sweetheart.”
The nickname caused butterflies to flutter in my stomach.
“I’m guessing you weren’t the class clown.”
“No. No, I wasn’t.” His face grew serious. “I was, or rather, Iama bit of a troublemaker.”
“How so?”
“I guess you could say I have a history of being a bit of a hothead. It made me reckless. I’ve gotten into fights, won most of them too.”
“That’s it?” I asked.
His eyebrows popped in surprise. “Isn’t that enough?”
“Sure.” I shrugged. “But I was bracing myself for something more serious. A bit of a temper? That doesn’t worry me.”
