“Have you been sampling your wares?” I asked only half sarcastically, the other half was seriously but he didn’t take this very well for he leaned in even further so he wasn’t only in my face, he was an inch away from it.

“Don’t try me,” he bit out.

“Don’t threaten me,” I shot back.

“Hey! Cool!” We heard shouted, Tate’s eyes went over my shoulder and I twisted to see a very petite woman running at me. She had dark hair cut in a short pixie that looked great on her, a friendly open face with big, doe eyes, she was wearing a t-shirt that said “McLeod’s Gym, Burn It!”, a pair of jeans and flip-flops and her face was devoid of makeup.

And she was also cut, as in, cut. So in shape I could see all the muscles in her arms.

She skidded to a halt in front of me, this perfect stranger, and then she wrapped her toned arms around me and gave me a hug. Stiff in her arms, because of my nature, I still couldn’t stop myself hugging her back.

“Hey!” she shouted, head tipped back to look at me when she let me go and backed up a half a step. “I’m Wendy. You’re Lauren! So cool!”

“Hey,” I replied, deciding automatically that I liked Wendy. Back in the day, with my family especially and early on with Brad, I was a cuddler. I liked to touch. I liked to hug. I liked to snuggle and hold hands. With my Mom, my Dad, Caroline, Brad – anyone really, if we were close.

Those days were gone, I hadn’t had a hug in a long time and it didn’t matter that it came from a perfect stranger who, even petite, looked like she could snap me like a twig. I still liked it and I liked her.

“I heard about you. Jim-Billy and Nadine said you were neat and I can’t wait to work with you! Won’t that be fun?”

She was rolling up and down on her toes, filled with such energy and enthusiasm it was unnatural. It felt like she needed so much she was sucking it from the very atmosphere, including me.

“Yeah, fun,” I said on a smile.

She leaned to the side and waved. “Hey Tate.”

“Wendy,” Tate returned.

“I’m gonna go dump my purse. Why don’t you hang out during my shift so we can chat?” she asked.

“Um…” I said, preparing to answer (and that answer, due to Tate’s presence and weird behavior, would sadly be no) but before I could speak, she rounded on a foot and dashed around the bar.

“You got any tabs runnin’?” I heard Tate ask and I turned back to him.

“Yeah,” I answered.

“Cash ‘em out. You’re off,” he declared and my eyes went to the big Coors Light clock over the bar.

“I’ve got ten minutes before Wendy’s on,” I reminded him. “And Jonelle’s not here yet.”

Nor, if yesterday was any indication, would she be for at least half an hour.

“Serve your drinks,” his head nodded to my tray, “and f**kin’ cash out.”

“But –”

“Not big on repeatin’ myself, babe.”

“Not big on being called babe, babe.”

Honestly!

I didn’t know I had it in me but I must have because Tate sure drew it right out.

“You hand Krys this attitude?” he asked me.

“I like Krystal,” I lied. “And she’s never threatened me and she’s never called me old, fat or a sorry-ass!” I snapped, grabbed my tray and stomped away.

I didn’t know both Jim-Billy and Nadine heard every word we’d said. I also didn’t know why Tate got under my skin and made me act like a bitchy raving lunatic. I also didn’t dwell since I decided early he was a jerk and had given myself permission to be a bitch. So, he kept acting like a jerk then he’d keep getting the bitch.

I served my drinks, calculated my tab and luckily could cash it out from my apron and I called hello to Dalton when he walked in. I also dragged my heels until Wendy hit the floor at a couple minutes to seven. Then I went behind the bar and slapped my apron down close to Dalton.

“Hey, Dalton, can you cash me out? I’m going to go freshen up,” I said to him.

“Sure, Lauren, can you give me ten?” Dalton answered.

“Not a problem,” I answered and turned to go to the restrooms but found my upper arm suddenly had five strong fingers wrapped around it and my body didn’t move of its own accord to the restroom, it was propelled by Tate to the office.

What now?

“Take your hand off me,” I hissed.

“Shut your trap,” he clipped back, opened the door and pulled me in. Then he shut the door and maneuvered me so my back was to it and he was close to my front.

“Move away,” I demanded, half shocked that there I was, in the office, a place I didn’t want to be, dragged there by a man I didn’t like and half scared because I didn’t know him very well and most of my experience with him he was angry but now he looked really mad.

“I hurt your feelings, I get it. I apologized,” he returned. “You don’t have to accept it, that’s your choice. But you do gotta f**kin’ listen to me when I’m givin’ you good advice. Those boys out there are in a biker gang, not a bad one but not one that shies away from trouble. You wanna be friendly enough to sell drinks and distant enough to fly under their radar. They clocked your tits, your ass, your legs, your hair and your attitude the minute they walked in and, trust me, Ace, you want them to admire you from afar. What you don’t want to do is give them the in you’ve been givin’ them the past four hours.”

“I haven’t been giving them an in,” I retorted.

“Babe, you crawled into one of their laps, I wouldn’t have been surprised.”

“That’s crazy!” I snapped.

“It is? You get I’m a man?” he asked bizarrely and I stared at him a second because pretty much no one on earth could miss that.

“Yes, I get you’re a man,” I answered.

“So, I get that impression from you just watchin’ your shit, what do you think they’re gettin’ bein’ on the receivin’ end?”

Uh-oh. As much as it killed me to admit, he had a point.

“Um…” I mumbled.

“Um,” he mimicked and I felt my eyes narrow on him. “Damn straight, Ace. How’d you get here?”

“Sorry?” I asked.

“To the bar, you got your car?”

“I walked,” I told him.

“You’re on my Harley once Dalton cashes you out.”