“Something going on between you and Gypsy?” Monster sipped his drink next to me, his face impassive. I could feel his eyes on me though.
“Nope.” Slugging down the rest of my drink, I carried on staring in her direction.
She was moving behind the bar with an easy kind of determination
I had been worried about her taking on a bar like the Otter, but the moment my ass had touched my chair, any worries I had evaporated: Gypsy was a pro. It was like another person inhabited her little hippy body. Gone was the woman who I had met at the side of the road, the woman who named her dog Woofy of all things, and in her place was a professional.
She poured drinks, laughing and smiling, flirting her way down the bar. She helped her staff when they needed it and stopped to talk to club members and their girls like she had known them her entire life.
She fit right in.
Especially in her tiny bike shorts and Drunken Otter tank top. The uniform had been her idea apparently, which had surprised me. I’d expected something a little more covered up. But God I wasn’t going to complain about it. The black material clung to her curves. Every mouth-watering one of them.
And boy, did the girl have a figure. Tiny and petite girls didn’t usually have the rack and ass I craved, but Gypsy did.
Her curves were damn near impossible to look away from, and I knew I wasn’t the only member of the Savage Sons to notice.
“You sure?” Monster scratched at his head; his usual shit eating grin pulled up the corners of his mouth. “Because I heard Sylvia walked in on you two getting it on the other day.” His low laughter filled the air.
“I’d just hit her dog; we were most definitely not getting it on.”
“But you want to.” Monster's hands went up as my head snapped in his direction. “Hey, don't look like that. It’s pretty fucking hot in here with the chemistry between you two. Everyone can feel it. I’m going to need a cold shower just from watching you guys look at each other.”
My laughter died. Was it that obvious? And why did I care so much that people had noticed? I didn’t know what to say, so I told him the truth.
“I was just trying to get her to stop slapping me.”
Monster's eyebrows shot up. “She slapped you?” There was amusement written across his face and his voice was almost gleeful.
“Tried too.” I corrected. “I had just hit her dog.” I shrugged.
“Yeah, I heard you. I can’t believe you hit Woofy.”
I side eyed him. “Does everyone know about her damn dog?”
Monster shrugged. “He looks like he's going to rip your face off but...” Another shrug.
I scowled at him. What the fuck was wrong with everyone? The whole club seemed to be team Gypsy and Woofy. I got the attraction with Gypsy, I really did, but the dog? It was just a damn mutt for God’s sake.
Catching my look, Monster chuckled again. “So, what are your plans for Gypsy then?”
“No idea yet.” And that was the truth. I wanted her in my bed so I could explore her curves, but could I do it with a clear conscience? We were business partners. If she ended up wanting more than I could give her then this whole venture could go down the pan.
The club wasn’t short on cash, but the bar had the possibility of being a little gold mine.
Gypsy was good at her job, damn good.
“I shouldn’t go after her…”
“I feel a but coming on. Look,” Monster eyed her up as she patted someone on the arm at the end of the bar, “what’s stopping you? You obviously have a thing for her.”
“I don’t have a thing. I just think she’s hot as hell that’s all.” The pang of jealousy I felt watching her flirt with one of my club brothers was surprising. I didn’t get jealous, not ever, and I sure as hell didn’t get jealous over some hippy chick who thought I was Satan himself.
“Yeah, everyone thinks she’s hot.”
I made a choking noise in the back of my throat. “You think she’s hot?” My eyes scanned the room. Did all these assholes think Gypsy was available? That I wouldn’t crack a few heads if they even attempted to touch her?
“She is hot, Fang, but you won’t care if she takes a fancy to someone else right because you don’t... Hey, where are you going?”
