“Lookin’ to decal that fiddle?”he muttered.
“Funny,” she said, flipping a page.“Maybe I’m plannin’ how to trick out my future hog.Think it needs flames.Or dice.Or, ooh—tassels.”
“You put tassels on a bike, and I’m callin’ the law.”
“You’d never call the law on me, would you?”she asked sweetly.
One boot slid up onto the rung of his stool, nudging the inside of his knee.Nash glanced over—and found the frayed edge of her cutoffs riding high on her thigh and Cassie smirking at him over the magazine.
To hell with work.
Wiping his hands off on his jeans, he pulled her into his lap, giggling and squirming.Sweeping her hair away, he pressed his mouth to the cluster of freckles at the base of her neck.She went still, breath catching.
“That’s my spot,” she whispered, turning in his arms, green eyes darkening.
Their mouths met—messy, urgent.
No, Nash thought, fingers twisting in her curls.It’s mine.
“Get a fuckin’ room, would ya?”someone yelled, followed by the clang of a wrench hitting concrete…
…the sound ricocheted as the garage dissolved and Shooter’s came back around him in a wash of sound.
Nash blinked, the bar pulling into focus again, only to find Cassie had turned from the counter.Eyes painted dark, her hair was straight and shiny and tucked behind her ears.No bra under the camisole; jeans hugging every curve.She looked too damn good for this fucking dive.
Crusher’s voice carried through the din, telling him to watch himself before he took a jar to the jaw.Nash barely clocked it; Cassie was saying something, too—something he couldn’t make out.Shaking his head, he leaned in.
“I said thank you.”Her breath moved across his cheek, sweet and sharp with peach schnapps.Her perfume hit him next—rich, unfamiliar, not that cheap shit she used to swipe from the drugstore.“For—”
Before she could finish, a blur of blonde barreled into Nash.“C’mon, Walker, dance with me.”
Shawna Keating—someone who’d warmed his bed now and then—had shoved between him and Cassie, arms looped around his neck.
Cassie’s expression cooled in an instant.She glanced toward Rook, muttered something Nash couldn’t quite hear, then turned—slipping into the crowd before he could get a word out.
He watched her go, wondering what in the fuck had just happened.
“Come on.Dance with me.”Shawna still swung from him, laughing, oblivious.
He eased her hands from his shoulders.“Not now.”
“Later?”she asked, pink lips pushing into a pout.
“Maybe.”Brushing past her, he made for the bar, signaling Darlene for his usual.
She slid him a shot and a beer without a word.He tossed back the shot, chased it with a swallow of beer, and leaned back against the counter only to find Crusher half laughing into his drink.Even Rook looked amused.
He eyed them both.“Somethin’ funny?”
Crusher guffawed.“One more run-in tonight, and it’s a goddamn hat trick.”
Snorting, Rook lifted his bottle and clinked it against Crusher’s.
Nash exhaled.“Do you ever not say the first fuckin’ thing that pops in your goddamn head?”
Crusher grinned.“No, I surely do not.”
“Fuck, no,” Rook added.“Man’s got two brain cells and one of ’em’s always drunk.”
