Page 26

The bar is packed tonight, thick with the scent of spilled beer and stale cologne. Some drunk at the far end belts out a slurred version of “Jingle Bells,” his voice competing with the low rumble of voices and clinking glasses. Near the center of the bar is a group of rowdy guys crowding around the new waitress, their hands drifting just a little too far. It’s time to put a stop to that nonsense.

I let out a sharp, piercing whistle, cutting through the noise like a knife. Instantly, every MC member in the bar turns to look at me, and I give a quick nod toward the new waitress. Her eyes go wide when she catches sight of the guys moving to back her up, and she shakes her head, mouthing, I’ve got it.

Names aren’t my strong suit. With the constant turnover, waitresses and bar staff come and go like clockwork. Mindy? Maybe Mandy? The name eludes me as one man rests a hand on her backside. She mutters something under her breath, her eyes flashing, and he holds up his hands like he’s innocent. But when he looks over at me, his expression changes, and he knows better than to push his luck. He shares a look with his buddies and, one by one, they toss money on the table, muttering as they head out.

Maybe it’s Molly? Whatever her name is, she snatches up the crumpled bills, stacking them in her hand before returning to the bar. She brushes past me, holding her head high, chin tipped up.

“I had it under control,” she says, her voice carrying a hint of defiance.

“Maybe you did, but listen…” I lower my voice, making sure she hears me over the hum of the crowd. “No one puts hands on you unless you want it. Got it?”

She meets my gaze, something defiant still flickering in her eyes, but there’s a glimmer of relief there too. “Yeah, got it.” Then, after a beat, she smirks. “But don’t go thinking I can’t handle myself.”

I chuckle, giving her a nod. “Never said you couldn’t, but we look after our own here. Let me know if you need backup.”

She walks off to handle the next order, tossing a quick, grateful glance over her shoulder. I watch her navigate the crowd with confidence I can respect.

It’s Christmas Eve, and you’d think the bar would be dead tonight. But the holidays have a funny way of dragging out the lonely souls who’d rather drown their thoughts in a drink than sit home alone with them. And, hey, I’m more than happy to take their money and build up my little Christmas stash while they keep the bar packed.

The place is wall-to-wall with regulars, drifters, and even a few club members. An old neon light casts a warm glow over the scuffed-up tables and barstools, and there’s the faint scent of pine from the scraggly tree someone set up, topped with a dented silver star. The drunk in the corner is still belting out his off-key rendition of “Jingle Bells,” egged on by a crowd that’s a few shots deep. It’s noisy, warm, chaotic, the kind of night that blurs together by the last call.

“Yo, Prez!” Tracker’s voice cuts through the clamor, his tone laced with something between amusement and curiosity. “Isn’t that your hellcat on the TV?”

I frown and glance up at the screen over the bar. Sure enough, there she is—Brandy, larger than life—sitting in some studio, a microphone pinned to her chest as she talks to the interviewer. Her hair is wild, cascading around her shoulders, and she’s wearing that wicked smile that says she’s loving every second of the spotlight. I can’t hear a damn word, but it doesn’t matter. The way her eyes light up and her hands move as she speaks, it’s like she’s dancing without moving her feet. She’s in her element.

The crowd hasn’t noticed, too wrapped up in their holiday cheer, but I’m not about to miss a word. “Hold it down!” I call out, but my voice barely registers above the din. Grabbing the remote, I crank up the volume, letting Brandy’s voice cut through the noise.

“… and we’re just so thrilled to be here, honestly. This record deal is a dream come true,” she says, her voice full of energy. She leans in, talking about the band’s upcoming tour, the dates, the cities. She’s smiling so wide it almost hurts to watch, knowing I’m not the one beside her.

Around me, a few heads turn, eyes shifting between the screen and me, with a few chuckles rumbling through the crowd.

Tracker elbows me, a smirk tugging at his lips as he serves the customers I’m neglecting. “Hell of a Christmas surprise, huh?”

“Didn’t expect to see her,” I admit, keeping my gaze on Brandy’s face, the spark in her eyes as she talks about the future. “Least of all tonight.”

I’m not the only one who is paying attention now. The MC brothers have quieted down, and even the drunk at the end of the bar stops singing for a moment, glancing up at the screen. For a brief second, it feels like Brandy is right here in the room, her voice carrying over the sound system, filling the bar with a bit of that Christmas magic I didn’t think I’d feel this year.

I shake my head, forcing a smile. “Let’s give her a toast.” I raise my glass, and the guys around me follow suit, a few clinking their glasses against mine.

“To Brandy,” I say, my voice steady, though I feel the sting of the words. “May she break every stage she sets foot on.”

“Brandy!” they echo, knocking back their drinks, their voices lifting in cheers.

***

It’s New Year’s Eve, and I’m already late getting back to the bar. Gamble booked a band for tonight, so it’s going to be chaos, packed to the walls with people trying to close out the year with a bang. Gamble and Tracker have been covering the place for me between Christmas and now so I could catch my breath, but of course, they forgot one thing—our famous chili-coated popcorn. We put it out on the tables and bar, a little trick that keeps people munching and reaching for drinks. More drinks means more cash. It’s as simple as that.

The usual place we get it from? Closed for the holidays. So, here I am, driving clear across town to get my hands on some, and between the packed roads and the wall of headlights stretching out before me, I’m at least an hour late.

When I finally pull into the bar’s lot, I can already feel the beat of the music thrumming through the walls. Inside, the sound slams into me, a deep, driving rhythm that I recognize immediately, though I haven’t heard it in person for months. Brandy. Her voice carries above the instruments, wild and raw, reaching every corner of the packed room.

I stop dead, staring at the stage where Brandy and her band, the Steel Outlaws, are tearing through a song, her voice hitting every note with a fire I remember all too well. She’s alive up there, her eyes flashing with the thrill of the crowd, her voice weaving through the guitar riffs like she was born for this moment. The crowd is eating it up, drawn in like moths to a flame.

Gamble spots me by the door and gives me a smug grin, mouthing, Surprise. So that’s why he kept it quiet. I guess I know why he picked this band. Although, I have no idea how we can afford them. Their record went platinum and had three top-ten hits.

I make my way through the crowd, dropping the bags of popcorn behind the bar.

Tracker glances back at me, nodding as he sees I’ve finally arrived. “Nice of you to join us,” he shouts over the music, laughing as he fills bowls with popcorn.

I shake my head, unable to tear my eyes away from Brandy. She’s right in front of me, commanding the room like she owns it. Her gaze sweeps over the crowd, and for a split second, I think our eyes meet. She doesn’t miss a beat, just lifts the mic a little closer and throws herself deeper into the song.

“Well, isn’t this something?” I mutter to myself as I settle in behind the bar, trying to focus on the job.

I reach for a glass, pour a shot, and toss it back, letting the burn ground me as I watch her perform. It’s like she’s a storm, her presence filling the bar with an electric charge, and the band behind her is just as fierce, hammering out a sound that pulses through the crowd.

Tracker leans over, chuckling. “Not the welcome back you were expecting, huh?”

“No,” I admit, my voice barely a whisper under the roar of the music. “But damn if it isn’t the best one.”

The song hits its final note, and the bar erupts in cheers and applause. Brandy grins, glancing at her bandmates, and I see that spark in her eyes that tells me she’s exactly where she’s meant to be.

“How much is this costing us?” I ask, keeping my voice low, though I can barely hear myself over the cheers and applause still ringing through the bar.

Gamble chuckles, leaning against the bar with a smug grin. “Nothing.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Nothing?”

“She said she’d do it for free beer… and you.”

I blink, processing his words as Brandy exchanges a few words with her bandmates on stage, laughing and brushing her hair back. Her eyes drift toward the bar, her gaze finding me like a magnet. There’s that smirk, subtle but unmistakable, lighting up her face as she heads over, weaving through the crowd with that easy confidence I remember all too well.

“Well…” Gamble says with a satisfied grin. “I’d say you’re getting one hell of a deal.”

I don’t answer. I just watch as Brandy reaches the bar, slipping onto the stool in front of me. She looks at me, her eyes alight with a spark that makes me wonder if I’ve got more to handle tonight than I bargained for.

“Hope you don’t mind the surprise,” she says, a touch of teasing in her voice. “Thought it’d be a nice way to bring in the new year.”

“You did all this for free beer?” I ask, crossing my arms, playing along.

She raises an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “And maybe… just maybe, for a certain tall, brooding guy behind the bar.” Her eyes never leave mine, and suddenly, the noise around us fades, leaving just the two of us in our little world.

“Could’ve just called, you know,” I murmur, trying to keep my cool, though it’s a fight with her this close.

Brandy shrugs, her smile widening. “Where’s the fun in that?”

She reaches across the bar, her fingers brushing mine. It’s a simple touch, but it feels like it carries the weight of every missed moment, every stolen glance, and every what-if.

“Happy New Year, Whiskey,” she whispers, her voice barely carrying over the noise, but I hear every word like it’s just for me.

I smirk, pouring a shot and sliding it over to her. “Happy New Year, Brandy. Here’s to more… surprises.”

Brandy nods, throwing the shot back in one smooth motion, her eyes never leaving mine. She sets the glass down with a little clink, a hint of mischief in her smile.

“Better get back to it,” she says, sliding off the stool, but she pauses just a second longer, leaning in close. “Find me at midnight?”

I give her a slow nod, letting a grin tug at my mouth. “I think I will.”

She winks, a quick flash of that devil-may-care spark in her eyes, then turns on her heel, making her way back through the crowd. The energy shifts as she steps onto the stage again, the room pulsing with anticipation as she grabs the mic and shoots a knowing glance back at me.

The band kicks off another song, and her voice rises over the notes, sending a fresh thrill through the bar. It’s like she commands the whole room, and damn if it doesn’t feel like she’s singing just for me.

***

The clock has well and truly struck midnight and then some. When I glance up at the old clock above the bar, the hands are creeping toward four in the morning. Somehow, the night slipped away while Brandy and her band played like they were possessed. The bar is mostly empty now, with the boys helping the last stragglers out the door, but Brandy and her band? They’re still here, packing up their gear with the same energy they had at the start of the night.

They must’ve played a dozen sets, taking just enough time between each one to catch their breath and down some water before diving back in. But looking at Brandy as she slings her guitar into its case, you’d think it was still the start of the night. She’s all fire and spark, her eyes bright, not a trace of exhaustion in sight.

I cross the room, stepping over an abandoned beer cup and a handful of confetti that must’ve come from somewhere. “You planning on going all night, or are you gonna let this place close?” I tease, watching as she straightens up, a smile playing on her lips.

She turns to face me, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Didn’t think you’d still be here,” she says, a playful gleam in her eye. “Figured you’d be wiped out by now, old man.”

“Guess I can handle more than you thought,” I say, leaning against the wall as I watch her finish.

Her grin widens. “We’ll see about that.” She steps closer, looking up at me, and even with the wear of the night, she’s magnetic. The world feels quiet, just the two of us in the lingering warmth of the night.

“Didn’t think you’d stick around just for me,” she murmurs, her voice softer now.

“Who says I did?” I reply, though the look in her eyes says she knows better.

Brandy lets out a laugh that has a hint of something sexy underneath. “Guess I owe you for more than just the drinks, then,” she murmurs, words hanging heavy between us, eyes glinting with unspoken promises. That look—yeah, she’s not ready to call it a night.

I grin, raising an eyebrow. “Pretty sure it’s me who owes you. Think you’ve got it in you to keep going?”

She leans in, her voice dropping to a whisper that sends a shiver down my spine. “Only one way to find out.” Brandy slips her hand into mine, fingers warm, and gives a little tug toward the door. “Come on,” she says, a spark in her eyes.

As we pass Gamble, I give him a nod. “Gamble, I’m out. Happy New Year, man. You’re closing up tonight. I’ll see you around.”

Gamble grins, shaking his head with a chuckle. “Got it, Prez. You two have a good one.”

Once we’re outside, I turn to her. “Where to?”

She raises an eyebrow, all confident. “The Imperial Hotel. Huge shower, king-size bed… plenty of room to relax.”

A slow smile tugs at my lips. I lead her to my bike, pulling my helmet off the handle and holding it out. “You ever been on one of these before?”

She gives a soft laugh. “A long time ago.”

“It’s easy,” I say, swinging my leg over the seat. “Just hold on tight.”

Brandy giggles and slips the helmet on. “I think I can handle that.”

With a wink, I hold out my hand, and she takes it, climbing on behind me. Brandy’s hands steady on my shoulders before her arms tighten around my waist. The engine roars to life, and we’re off, tearing down empty streets beneath the street lights. The cool night air whips against us, but with her holding on, I almost don’t feel the chill.

As we pull up to the Imperial, its grand, old-world facade glows against the night. I cut the engine, and we step off, her laughter still echoing softly as we stride into the lobby, the warmth inside wrapping around us. We’re side by side, the world hushed as we reach the elevator, the soft chime of the doors closing like the start of something inevitable.

In her room, Brandy crosses the floor, slipping off her heels gracefully and unhurried. She sweeps back the heavy curtains, revealing a sprawling cityscape that stretches beneath us, lights twinkling like stars tossed carelessly across the dark. The whole scene is hypnotic, casting its spell over everything it touches, and I feel the pull toward her, magnetic and fierce.

I step closer, and there’s this quiet intensity between us—electric—like we’re caught on the edge of something that could burn the whole damn night down.

Brandy turns to face me, her eyes locking onto mine, a silent question hanging in the air between us. Without a word, I close the distance between us, unable to resist the pull any longer. Her lips slightly part as I cup her face gently in my hands, the warmth of her skin sending a jolt through me.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as if we’re testing the waters. But then it deepens, fueled by the unspoken tension that crackles in the air around us. Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer as if she’s trying to erase any space left between us.

Time seems to stand still in that moment, the world outside fading away as we get lost in each other. It’s like everything before this was just a prelude to now, to this connection that feels inevitable and unstoppable.

When we finally pull apart, there’s this fire in Brandy’s eyes, a fierce, unrestrained spark that mirrors the one burning through me. She steps back, slow and deliberate, letting her jacket slide off her shoulders and hit the floor without a second thought.

“I seem to remember you’re pretty good in the shower,” she says, a teasing glint in her gaze.

She backs toward the bathroom, reaching over to flick on the light, casting a warm glow that fills the space between us. Her fingers slip to her waistband, and with a smirk, she tugs her jeans down, letting them fall with a careless ease that makes my pulse quicken. I shrug out of my cut, draping it carefully over the back of a chair, then kick off my boots and unbuckle my jeans, never letting my gaze stray from her.

Brandy’s smirk turns wicked as she lifts her shirt, pulling it over her head, baring that confidence that’s so damn magnetic it hits me like a shot of adrenaline. I strip off my shirt, letting it fall to the floor, each step in sync with hers as she moves toward the bathroom. She tosses a glance over her shoulder—a silent invitation—then disappears inside.

When I reach the doorway, steam is already curling around her, filling the room with a thick, heady warmth. I follow her in, feeling the heat wrap around us, sealing us from everything beyond these walls. The water is already streaming down, a steady cascade that soaks us in seconds, mixing with the fire that hasn’t faded since we walked in together.

Brandy turns to face me, droplets tracing down her skin, her gaze locking onto mine, dark and intense. And for a moment, neither of us moves. We simply stand there, letting the water pour over us, washing away every bit of the night’s grit and grime but leaving the heat, the pull between us stronger than ever.

Brandy reaches out, her fingers grazing along my chest, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. I capture her hand, bringing it to my lips, and softly kissing her knuckles. Her breath hitches, a shiver running through her as she leans in closer.

The kiss is fierce and hungry, a collision of lips and tongues that speaks of primal need. Our bodies press together, slick skin sliding against slick skin as we explore each other with a desperate urgency. Hands roam freely, mapping out familiar territory while discovering new peaks and valleys.

When we finally part, gasping for breath, the room is filled with nothing but the sounds of our ragged breathing and the steady drumming of the water against the tiles. Brandy’s eyes meet mine, a mixture of desire and something deeper swirling in their depths.

Lifting her, she wraps her legs around my waist, and I slowly ease my cock into the very depths of her. Brandy gasps as I pull out and then slam back into her. We move in an unstoppable rhythm, each thrust bringing us closer to the edge. I feel a primal connection to her that seems to come from deep within my soul. The water trickles down, almost forgotten, as the heat of this moment consumes everything.

Brandy’s nails dig into my back as she cries out, her voice echoing in the tiled space, the intensity of it sending shivers down my spine. This is not just about the physical release we’re seeking, but there’s a deeper connection being forged between us—one that will be hard to break apart.

I feel her body tighten around me, her breathing becoming more erratic as she nears her peak. And then she lets go, her release washing over her like a tidal wave as I keep thrusting, drawing out every ounce of pleasure from her body. In return, I find my release, the connection between us reaching its peak as I climax, both of us a symphony of gasps and moans echoing around the steam-filled room.

As the intensity fades, Brandy slides down my body, her eyes still locked on mine. There’s this unspoken understanding passing between us, a silent promise that goes beyond just the physical. It’s as if we’ve shared something profound and life-changing—not just about our bodies coming together, but our souls merging in a way that goes beyond words.

We clean up, dry off, slip beneath the cool sheets, and curl up together in the king-size bed. The city stretches out before us, quiet and still, just beginning to wake under the soft blush of dawn. The light filters in, casting a faint glow across Brandy’s face, illuminating the warmth in her eyes as she rests beside me, close and unguarded.

She laces her fingers through mine. “You know I can’t stay.”

It’s not a question. It’s a simple fact. And even though I’d give anything to hold on to her a little longer, I know she has a life waiting for her, a world I’m just passing through.

“Yeah,” I say, but my voice cracks a bit, betraying me. I can hear the disappointment I’m trying to hide, the part of me that hates to let her go.

She sighs, brushing her thumb over my hand. “We’re booked solid for the next two months. After that, we’re back in the studio to work on the next album.”

I manage a smile, though it’s mixed with something bittersweet. “You don’t have to explain. Hell, I’ve kept up with your tour and see how well you’re doing on the charts. The boys love telling customers they know you, the famous Brandy with the Steel Outlaws.” I chuckle, but there’s no humor in it, just a quiet resignation.

If I could, I’d keep her right here with me, tucked away from the rest of the world. But Brandy and the fire in her spirit belong to the stage, the road, and the fans who look up to her. She’s got a life carved out, and it consists of bright lights and loud crowds. What could a man like me ever offer her that could measure up to that?

I press a kiss to her temple. “Sleep. It’s a brand new year, one you’re going to conquer.”

She twists, so she’s facing me. “You sound sure of that.”

“You’re fearless.” I smirk and steal a kiss. “We’ll see each other again. Fate keeps throwing us together.”

“She does, doesn’t she?” Brandy snuggles closer, her voice softening. “Maybe it’s not just fate… maybe it’s something more. Something we can’t explain or control.”

I gaze deep into her eyes, seeing the truth behind her words. “I believe in fate, but I also believe in choice. We can choose to make our paths cross again, and again, and again.”

She smiles. “I hope so.”