Page 6 of Preacher Man

Besides that, she had a strict no biker policy. All of them bad news.

Take her brother. The poster boy for biker warnings.

She'd seen this one in action too many times. Was it the voice that had the waitresses dropping their panties as fast as they could? He certainly wasn't typically handsome but she could see his features were an appeal and then there were his green eyes, like emeralds sharp enough to cut and leave a wound behind.

If she had to choose something, she’d say it was his build. Women were ingrained to go for the biggest Neanderthal in the village and they didn't come much bigger than Preacher. Disreputable Renegade Souls member. Perpetual Don Juan and swinger of his dick.

He was waiting for her to speak, that smile on his face hanging above his pointed beard, so perfectly styled she wondered how long it took him every day to do that. Was it soft? Did it scratch? What kind of woman was it that ran her fingers down and tested it out? He was just your average biker in blue denim jeans, thick-soled boots and a long-sleeved shirt underneath the leather jacket, nothing special she tried to reason with her clutching ovaries, little traitorous bastards. So, what if she hadn’t had sex in months, it was her choice, she could have a fast fuck whenever she wanted.

His smile was sexual. Devious and tempting.

Not tonight, Satan.

"Good evening," she greeted with a forced smile, avoided looking at him directly, choosing a spot just over his right shoulder to focus on, she reached for the towel under the bar and wiped it down to keep her hands busy, "what can I get you?"

She knew his drink. Knew what he liked to order from the menu.

"A smile would be nice, Ruby. I'd pay extra for it."

It took three seconds for the implication of what he'd said hit home and her gaze fired to see him grinning, eyes teasing.

Her lips thinned out. "We're all out of smiles. I can bring you a bourbon on the rocks."

"You remembered," his smile widened, became a tiny bit wicked, it hit her belly in hot slutty flutters. “I appreciate you knowing that.”

“It’s my job to know. Bourbon?” Belly muscles she didn’t know existed under her persistent Christmas pounds tightened.

This is what happens looking directly into the sun, idiot. Rookie mistake. She’d avoided those green depths for months for good reason. "Sure, if smiles are off, hit me with the strong stuff, beautiful, I need it."

It was biting on the edge of her tongue to ask if everything was okay, sneaking a shady glance his way, not too long, just a fast look, those large hands tapping a beer coaster between them, his focus straightforward. Tiredness noticeable around his eyes.

She poured his drink, slid it across and went back to wiping before he handed over a twenty. "Have one on me."

"Thanks." She took the four dollars and let him watch her put it into the tip jar in the middle of the bar. Hoping it would be filled by the end of the week, otherwise her rent was going to be short again and having her landlord banging on the door for yet another month was something she could do without. And if he offered her the option to pay in kind again she was going to dick punch the little punk. He was all of twenty-three with slicked back greasy hair caught in a rat's tail down his back and a pencil moustache. Little shit worked for his dad and thought he was the bees-knees.

Only five people sat at the bar, Preacher being one of them, the most noticeable as she went about her work. Still relatively early for Otis’ to be full, it would be wall-to-wall people soon enough, she took food orders, delivered them to the kitchen, half listened to the game up on the TV screens, if the Rockies would only win it usually generated happy drunks and more tips. She crossed her fingers and prayed for the win.

“How’s life treating you, Ruby?” She caught and stalled putting a drink down in front of a guy and his girl, eyes tracking back to Preacher who was trained on her, fully intent.

I could do with a million dollars if you found some down the back of the couch.“Oh, you know.” Her smile was present but not full wattage because she didn’t want to encourage him.

Her bartender job was a fine line between being friendly and boneheads thinking she wanted their dicks if she giggled too long.

She was never sex shy. She liked sex, but nine times out of ten she went home alone and no one had interested her baser needs in forever, she was beginning to think her vagina had decided to retire to Florida.

And thenheswaggered in.

And she felt her body respond on every part he swept his filthy green gaze over. Her libido hadn’t been this awake since … she couldn’t even remember. It was as if Avon had come calling and she was buying every damn lipstick in every damn shade.

Damn you, vagina.

Seriously, your timing sucks.

Wiping the length of the shiny oak, aware a pair of dirty eyes on her, she turned her head to look at him briefly, he hadn’t even touched his drink, cradling it between his palms, long tapered tattooed fingers holding it gently. Belated she asked. “You? Back in town for good now?” She’d noticed he was gone, but to cover her tracks she added quickly. “I saw your boys in here a lot without you, that was all.”

His smirk appeared and he ran a hand down his beard, otherwise didn’t say anything to that other than “For right now I am. Might be headed back to Nebraska in a few months, depending on how things go and if Rider wants me back there.”

“Nebraska?”Small world, she thought, meeting his gaze. He arched a dark brow.