“You own a bar?” she asked Wade carefully.
“Yep.” That was interesting, because bars meant people, and people had information, and might be able to offer her transportation and a possible way out. Princess tucked that bit of information away immediately.
Butcher seemed to catch the look on her face, and his eyes narrowed slightly—damn him. “You’re thinking too hard,” he said.
“You’re staring too hard,” she countered, trying to throw him off her scent.
Wade made a choking sound like he was trying not to laugh again. “This is better than TV.”
“Leave,” Butcher deadpanned.
“Not until I get the whole story,” he insisted.
“There is no story,” Butcher spat.
Princess tilted her head slightly. “That’s disappointing. I was hoping for something dramatic.” Butcher shot her a look that practically screamed traitor, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Princess smiled without forcing it. A real smile was rare for her these days. She had almost forgotten how it felt to smile. It only lasted a second or two, but it was enough. Wade seemed to notice it immediately, and so did Butcher. He stared at her a fraction too long before looking away first, his jaw tightening.
Wade looked between them and muttered, “Oh, you two are screwed.” Butcher looked murderous, and somehow, for the first time since arriving in Mississippi, Princess laughed.
Within just minutes of waking up, Princess had learned three things. First, Wade talked entirely too much. Second, Butcherbecame progressively more irritated the longer Wade stayed. And third, watching Butcher get irritated was becoming one of her favorite hobbies.
“You’re enjoying this way too much,” Butcher muttered as Princess leaned against the garage doorway, sipping coffee while Wade continued running his mouth.
“I have no idea what you mean,” she said sweetly.
Wade barked out a laugh from where he sat on a stool near the toolbox. “She’s funny. You should keep her.”
Butcher looked like he was reconsidering murder again. Princess smiled into her coffee. This was the most entertaining twenty-four hours she’d had in months—possibly years, which honestly said something depressing about her life. But still, watching the big, grumpy mechanic lose his patience every thirty seconds was oddly satisfying. Especially because Butcher didn’t actually seem angry. Annoyed, sure. Guarded, definitely, but there was something else underneath it now. Something restless. Something she was starting to suspect had very little to do with Wade.
“You know,” Wade said casually, “you should come by the bar tonight.”
Butcher’s head snapped up instantly. “No.”
Wade grinned. “Well, now she definitely should.”
“I’m serious, Wade,” Butcher growled. “No.”
“And I’m serious too,” Wade shot back. “Girl’s stranded in the middle of nowhere with your antisocial ass. Let her see civilization.” Princess tilted her head slightly, watching Butcher carefully. She found it interesting that he genuinely didn’t like this idea.
“Why can’t I go to his bar?” she asked innocently.
“Because bars around here are full of idiots,” Butcher said flatly.
Wade snorted. “You say that like you’re not one of them.”
“I’m not,” Butcher insisted.
“Right. You just look like a biker, work on bikes, act like a biker, and brood like one.” Princess hid a smile because he did brood like one. It was painfully accurate.
Wade stood, stretching lazily before looking at her again. “A bunch of guys meet there every night,” he said. “Riders mostly—mechanics, veterans, and a couple of old club guys passing through now and then.”
That caught her attention immediately. “Club guys?” she asked. Butcher went very still. It was a tiny reaction and easy to miss, but Princess noticed anyway.
Wade nodded casually, completely unaware of the tension between them. “Yeah. Bikers always end up there eventually.” He jerked a thumb toward Butcher. “Been trying to convince this asshole to start a club around here for years.”
Princess looked at Butcher and noticed his unreadable expression. His eyes were cold and blank, and she found that interesting. He was pretending not to care about what Wade had just said.
“You wanted to start a biker club?” she asked carefully.
