Fox
Woman, don’t make me come and get you from my mother’s house.
MrsFoxyRoxy
*GIF of Morpheus with bring it hand*
Trouble
I think we have gotten off topic.
MrsFoxyRoxy
For goodness’ sake, babe. If you do nothing else today, get out of that damn house.
I glance at Eleanor, deciding Honor is right. Being sequestered in here isn’t doing her any good. She might not seek out human company, or even be happy in it, but we are creatures that need contact with people, and her world has shrunk to only me. Not that it was very big to begin with.
I snatch her phone from her hands, and she blinks at me, not fully understanding what’s happening. “What are you doing?”
“Get dressed.”
She looks down at herself, a small crease forming between her brows. “I am dressed.”
Anyone else and I would say they were being difficult, but this is Eleanor and factually, she is correct.
“Get dressed for a trip to the local bar. We are going out for dinner.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Biker bar for food? Sounds like we are asking for a case of campylobacter.”
“They have a five star hygiene rating and impressive reviews, but if you are concerned about food poisoning, you can watch me eat the best ribs in a hundred mile radius.”
“Best ribs?” She straightens her shoulders, her eyes shining with interest.
“If you want to find out, you’ll need to change. You’ll stand out in sweats and my old T-shirt.” The one I’ve not tried to reclaim, finding too much pleasure in the fact she washes it every two days to rewear.
In a heartbeat, she’s off her stool and dashing down the hall, the bedroom door snapping closed behind her as she muttersabout biker bars not having discerning tastes. I have no doubt, regardless of what she wears, she will command every single male gaze in that place. She’s never struck me as insecure. In fact, I know she’s not, but there is an innocence to her that is like a siren call. Mixed with her beauty and brains? It’s fucking intoxicating. Eleanor Austin may not socialize, but that won’t stop them trying to claim a nugget of her time to bathe in the light radiating around her.
Now the real question isn’t if she’ll enjoy the food—it’s whether or not she can dance. It’s Friday night, where the Desert Reapers trade out leather for suede, and exchange rock for country. It’s time to hang up our jackets and put on our Stetsons.
Chapter Thirty
Eleanor
What do they feed the cattle here?
Ifeel a little twitchy when Hunter threads his fingers with mine as we stroll toward the bar a few minutes down the street from his house. Not because he’s touching me, but because I haven’t had the time to study the behavior of the people I’m expected to try to fit in with. I’ve never been inside a biker bar, so my lack of knowledge of their environment and expectations is causing me stress. But he promised ribs, really good ribs, and I am a sucker for good food—something he’s figured out.
The pink neon sign is a warm glowing beacon in the night, and the scent wafting from the open door makes my mouth water. My expectations aren’t high—I have a mental image of broken furniture and a chipped concrete floor covered in stale beer and blood. What I get is the opposite—there’s a warm atmosphere and a bustling, but not overly crowded, room with comfy intimate booths covered in the same pink as the outdoor sign.
Hunter nods to a few people who offer curious glances at me as he guides us toward the back wall away from the main throng of people. I slide into the booth, pleasantly surprised to find it’s comfortable and not sticky, and he takes the seat opposite me. A busty redhead, who is chewing the largest piece of gum I’ve ever seen, appears next to us.
She bats her fake eyelashes at Hunter, the ones that look like a squashed spider made its deathbed on her eyelids. They even stick to her cheeks when she blinks. My nose wrinkles. That would irritate the shit out of me.
“Hey, Hunter. You want your usual?”
“Yes, and a cola please, Lea.”
He doesn’t even look at her, his eyes focused fully on me. He’s clearly playing up the fake dating, which makes sense given half the town seems to be here tonight. “What do you fancy, trouble? Ribs? Or do you want to see the menu?”
