Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Tonight’s going so well, I almost feel bad for giving Remy shit about throwing the party. Since it’s his place and he’s hosting, I didn’t want him closing down for the whole night. But our biker friends have been stuffing the tip jars with every order they make. So much so that maybe he’ll end up making more than if he’d been open to the public.
“Do you think I should go relieve Remy of bar duty?” Molly asks.
“Uh, absolutely not.” I know most of the people here, but I’m not sure all of them are aware of who Molly is or that she’s with me. A woman behind the bar by herself in a place full of bikers, mobsters, and gearheads could be trouble.
“Griff, I recognize almost everyone here,” Molly says. “And if they don’t know I’m your girlfriend, they definitely know I’m Remy’s sister.”
I lean down and say against her ear, “Knowing you’re Remy’s sister didn’t stop me from wanting to put my filthy paws all over you.”
She pulls away and flicks her challenging blue eyes up at me. “And you only get to put your hands on me because you have my permission, not Remy’s.”
She’s got me there. “Excellent point, Miss Holt.” I slide out of the bench and hold out my hand to her. “Let’s go give your brother a break.”
“You can’t serve drinks at your own party,” she protests, slipping her hand into mine.
“I’m not planning to.”
“You’re just going to sit at the bar like a scary bulldog chasing people away.”
I love the way my girl just gets me. “Woof, woof, baby.”
Her eyes narrow and her lips flatten with the effort of not laughing.
I walk behind Molly, keeping my hands at her waist to help her navigate the crowd—and because I enjoy touching her every second I can.
A large hand with several thick, metal rings on each finger waves in front of my face to catch my attention. Rooster’s bearded face grins at me. I stop and tug on Molly’s belt loops, so we can say hi to the Lost Kings downstate VP.
“Congratulations.” He slaps my shoulder hard enough to knock over a rhino.
“Thanks.”
His biker brother, Dex, joins us, also offering a congratulatory backslap. “I tried to warn you that was going to be a shit show,” he says, cutting right to it.
I shrug and nod, not really looking for brotherly advice or opinions at the moment. He means well, but I’m not in the mood. “I survived, but I definitely wouldn’t do it again.”
“Thank God,” Molly grumbles.
Dex chuckles. His gaze slides between Molly and me, noting how I’ve got my arm around her out in the open.
“How’re you doing, Molly?” he asks.
“Good. I was on my way to help my brother out.” She flicks an amused look up at me. “But someone thinks I need my own personal bouncer.”
Dex and Rooster both shake with laughter.
“No comment,” Dex says.
“Emily here with you?” I ask him.
“She is.” He nods to the far corner, across from the bar. “Playing darts with the ladies.”
“Come say hi to me.” Molly waves over her shoulder as she continues moving through the crowd.
Rooster eyes me. “We will. Don’t go far, Stonewall.”
I tilt my head toward Molly, now a few steps ahead of me. “You know where I’ll be.”
Molly slips behind the counter, picks up an apron and wraps it around her waist. Instead of walking through the crowd again, I also slide in behind the counter, intent on popping out at the other end and perching my ass on the last stool, where I’ll have the best view of everyone approaching the bar.
Remy stops me with a hand on my chest. “You done mauling my sister?”
I brush his hand off me, but he’s still in my way. “Not even close.”
“Griff,” Molly rests one hand on each of our shoulders and leans up on her tiptoes, “will you please tell my brother that I can handle things for a few minutes so he can take a break?”
I lift my eyebrows at Remy.
He turns his head, quickly scanning the room.
“Fine.” He sets the rag in his hands on the counter. “I won’t go far,” he says to Molly. “If you get a request for something you don’t know how to make, just offer them a beer.”
She nods quickly. “I can do that.”
I push him down the line and out from behind the bar.
He lifts his head, searching the room or checking to see that everything’s still intact. “I’m gonna run in back.” His gaze shifts to Molly, then back to me. “You’ll—”
“Be right here.” I settle myself on the last stool.
He nods once and takes off.
I swivel from side to side on the stool and cross my arms over my chest, trying to look more like a mascot than a guard dog.
A short blonde woman rests her silver cowgirl boots on the lower rung of one of the stools next to me and boosts herself up to lean over the counter. “Can you make me a Paloma?” she asks Molly in a thick Texan accent.