Page 45
Story: Preacher
“It’s good to see you, too.”
“How are those hinges holding up?”
“They’re doing great.” I smiled. “I appreciate you guys coming out and helping me.”
“Glad we could help.” He motioned me toward the door. “Prez is inside.”
“Okay.”
He opened the door, and I followed him inside. The hallway was dark and smelled of leather, smoke, and old bourbon. And something else. Something older. Like time had settled in the walls, and while it was somewhat rustic, it gave it a feeling of home.
The floors were dark hardwood, and the walls were covered in framed photos, patches, and old black-and-white pictures that gave a glimpse of the club’s history. I was trying to peek at each of them when the hall suddenly ended, and we were standing in a bar.
It looked like one you might find downtown with weathered wood, iron brackets, and a row of mismatched stools. The shelves behind it held bottles of every kind of liquor you could imagine. There were pool tables and dart boards, and the place was filled with men in leather vests and women in tight jeans and low-cut tops.
I felt him long before I saw him.
The heat of his stare sent a chill down my spine.
When I turned, I found him sitting in the back of the room, sitting at a table surrounded by two men I didn’t recognize and two women who looked like they were trying too hard to get his attention.
But he wasn’t paying them any mind.
His eyes were on me and me alone.
There was no smile. No spark in his eyes.
He just sat there, watching me like a king on his throne, as I forced myself to walk over to him. The two men next to him stopped talking the second they noticed me coming toward them. They glanced over at Hudson, and as soon as they saw the way he was looking at me, they both got up and took the girls with them.
There was a whole room full of people, but all I saw was him.
He looked so unbelievably handsome that it made my heart race.
He was wearing a black t-shirt and his black leather cut, and his salt and pepper hair was disheveled in perfect disarray. The years etched into his face, and they told a story I didn’t know. But I wanted to. I wanted to know everything about him. That alone should have had me turning around. Instead, I felt pulled to him, like a moth to a flame.
His eyes never left mine as I walked up to him and said, “Hey.”
He held my gaze for a moment, then replied, “Hey. I didn’t know you were coming by.”
“I didn’t either.”
“Was there something you needed?”
“Just wanted to tell you thanks again for coming to fix Faith’s stall. It was very thoughtful of you.”
“I was glad to do it, but something tells me that’s not the real reason you’re here.”
“No, I guess it’s not.” I folded my arms and cocked my brow, “But you didn’t have to call me on it.”
“Yeah, actually, I did,” he answered without hesitation. “If you have something to say, say it.”
My chest tightened. He wasn’t going to make it easy for me. I didn’t necessarily blame him. I’d been pretty cutthroat when I told him I couldn’t do this thing with him, and now, he wanted my truth. I just didn’t know how to give it. “It’s complicated.”
“I see.”
He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, then motioned his head toward the chair next to him. Once I’d sat down, he leaned forward and placed his hand on my arm, giving it a light squeeze. My chest tightened, but not out of fear or disgust. I liked his hands on me. It felt like a promise, and I wanted to believe it even more than I cared to admit.
He studied me for a moment, then said, “You look like you could use a drink.”
“How are those hinges holding up?”
“They’re doing great.” I smiled. “I appreciate you guys coming out and helping me.”
“Glad we could help.” He motioned me toward the door. “Prez is inside.”
“Okay.”
He opened the door, and I followed him inside. The hallway was dark and smelled of leather, smoke, and old bourbon. And something else. Something older. Like time had settled in the walls, and while it was somewhat rustic, it gave it a feeling of home.
The floors were dark hardwood, and the walls were covered in framed photos, patches, and old black-and-white pictures that gave a glimpse of the club’s history. I was trying to peek at each of them when the hall suddenly ended, and we were standing in a bar.
It looked like one you might find downtown with weathered wood, iron brackets, and a row of mismatched stools. The shelves behind it held bottles of every kind of liquor you could imagine. There were pool tables and dart boards, and the place was filled with men in leather vests and women in tight jeans and low-cut tops.
I felt him long before I saw him.
The heat of his stare sent a chill down my spine.
When I turned, I found him sitting in the back of the room, sitting at a table surrounded by two men I didn’t recognize and two women who looked like they were trying too hard to get his attention.
But he wasn’t paying them any mind.
His eyes were on me and me alone.
There was no smile. No spark in his eyes.
He just sat there, watching me like a king on his throne, as I forced myself to walk over to him. The two men next to him stopped talking the second they noticed me coming toward them. They glanced over at Hudson, and as soon as they saw the way he was looking at me, they both got up and took the girls with them.
There was a whole room full of people, but all I saw was him.
He looked so unbelievably handsome that it made my heart race.
He was wearing a black t-shirt and his black leather cut, and his salt and pepper hair was disheveled in perfect disarray. The years etched into his face, and they told a story I didn’t know. But I wanted to. I wanted to know everything about him. That alone should have had me turning around. Instead, I felt pulled to him, like a moth to a flame.
His eyes never left mine as I walked up to him and said, “Hey.”
He held my gaze for a moment, then replied, “Hey. I didn’t know you were coming by.”
“I didn’t either.”
“Was there something you needed?”
“Just wanted to tell you thanks again for coming to fix Faith’s stall. It was very thoughtful of you.”
“I was glad to do it, but something tells me that’s not the real reason you’re here.”
“No, I guess it’s not.” I folded my arms and cocked my brow, “But you didn’t have to call me on it.”
“Yeah, actually, I did,” he answered without hesitation. “If you have something to say, say it.”
My chest tightened. He wasn’t going to make it easy for me. I didn’t necessarily blame him. I’d been pretty cutthroat when I told him I couldn’t do this thing with him, and now, he wanted my truth. I just didn’t know how to give it. “It’s complicated.”
“I see.”
He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, then motioned his head toward the chair next to him. Once I’d sat down, he leaned forward and placed his hand on my arm, giving it a light squeeze. My chest tightened, but not out of fear or disgust. I liked his hands on me. It felt like a promise, and I wanted to believe it even more than I cared to admit.
He studied me for a moment, then said, “You look like you could use a drink.”
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 87
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 92
- Page 93
- Page 94
- Page 95
- Page 96
- Page 97
- Page 98
- Page 99