Carly smiled and lifted the glass. “Salud,” she said, determined to enjoy her night off. She took a drink, not the whole shot—she didn’t have a death wish—followed it with a lick of salt off the back of her hand, and bit into the lime he’d set on a napkin next to the glass.
Always up for a good time, Rowena laughed at something the tall cowboy next to her said and took a sip of her drink.
The bar was about half full, with more people arriving all the time. Carly glanced around, enjoying the peanut-shells-on-the-floor atmosphere, the clack of pool balls, and the Willie Nelson song playing on the digital jukebox in the corner. She recognized her foreman, Gordy Mitchell, and another driver laughing in the corner with a couple of other truckers.
A lot of the regulars drove pickups and wore cowboy hats. There’d been a bunch of flashy motorcycles parked out in front, flames on the gas tank of one, a dragon on another, one glossy jet black with a black leather seat trimmed with silver conchos.
The roadhouse was the kind of place where cowboys and bikers mixed with the locals and everyone got along.
Mostly.
Carly had been back a few times over the years when she’d come home for a visit. One of those times she’d gotten a little drunk on tequila and started dancing on the table. The next thing she remembered was swimming naked in the pool at some guy’s apartment. Fortunately Rowena had been with her, and even drunk they’d been smart enough to leave before they got in way over their heads.
She barely remembered the cab ride home, but she remembered how sick she’d been in the morning. She smiled as she took another sip of Patrón.Never again.
Laughter erupted from a table along the wall. From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of black leather, guys in chaps and vests. The bikers. Four men, one with gleaming black hair, one dark-haired, tall, and brawny, one black with a shaved head, a blond guy with a horseshoe mustache and hair a little too long, all in great physical condition and sporting tattoos in various shapes and sizes.
Her gaze returned to the big guy, though she could only see his profile. Beneath a snug black T-shirt, a massive chest, and shoulders bulging with muscle. The tat of a single strand of barbed wire circled a huge left bicep. Two of the other men had colorful tattoo sleeves.
The big man laughed at something one of the others had said, a deep, husky sound. He turned a little and she caught a flash of white teeth in an amazingly handsome face. Carly blinked.
“What is it?” Row asked.
“Nothing.” She shook her head. “For an instant I thought that big guy over there was Lincoln Cain. Crazy, huh?”
Row started nodding. “That’s Cain. God, that man is gorgeous. A body like solid steel and a face that breaks hearts all over the country. And here he is, sitting in Jubal’s Roadhouse just like your everyday Hell’s Angel.”
“No way.”
“Well, not really. Those guys are all reformed. They used to ride with the Asphalt Demons, but one’s a dental surgeon now and the other two are lawyers. They live in the area. They still get together to ride.”
She couldn’t stop shaking her head. “That . . . that can’t be Cain.” Her gaze slid back across the room. Just then he looked over at the bar, and before she could look away, he spotted her.
Brilliant green eyes locked on her face and she couldn’t stop staring. With supreme effort, she forced her attention back to Rowena.
“No man should look that good, right?” Row said.
Carly’s face felt hot. Beneath her tank top, her nipples were hard. Dear God, Cain, the wealthy, expensively dressed entrepreneur, was one thing. Cain, the sexy tattooed biker, was completely amazing. She watched him shove up from his chair and start striding toward her and her pulse went through the roof.
Row smiled and waved. “Oh, good, he’s coming over.”
Her nerves rocketed skyward.Not good, not good, not good.
“Do you know him?” Row asked.
“We’ve . . . umm . . . met a couple of times. He was a friend of Grandpa Joe’s.”
“Yeah, I knew that.” Row turned around on the bar stool, beamed as Cain walked up, the ultimate beefcake in black chaps over a pair of black jeans. The chaps outlined the bulge beneath his zipper, and suddenly she felt dizzy.
Row smiled. “Hey, Linc. Been a while. Good to see you.”
“You, too, Row.”
With her impressive cleavage and curvy figure, Rowena was a total man magnet, but Cain’s gaze slid past her, moved over Carly’s body as if he wanted to explore every inch. She forced herself to breathe.
“Can I buy you two a drink?” He looked up at the bartender. “Get the girls another round, Ricardo.”
“Will do, Mr. C.”
