Page 7 of Preacher Man

“You’ve been?”

“I have family there,” she didn’t elaborate and then barber shop Daryl called for her attention. She passed a minute with him pouring his beer with a whiskey chaser. He was a terrible drunk that bordered alcoholism but always friendly with it. As she handed over his change, Ruby’s skin was all conscious of a dirty biker’s eyes on her, she wanted to rub her thighs together, to stop that little fire building there. Her stare refused to slide left to look at Preacher, that’s all his ego needed to let him know she was feeling his pheromones.Not buying a ticket, bud.

“How’s that brother of yours, he still over in Fort Springs?“ asked Daryl. The short round man with the mop of graying ginger hair sipped on his beer, she could smell the fumes on his breath a foot away, but she had a soft spot for the old man ever since his wife died last year. “He’s doing good,” Ruby had no clue, hadn’t spoken to him in a while. And even then, it had been a single text.

When she’d lingered too long down one end of the long bar she made her way back up the other end, serving, wiping down, tossing the empty glasses the waitresses brought back into the dishes for the bus boy to take into the kitchen. It was all very routine, after two years she could do the job blindfolded, it just sucked it didn’t pay what she needed it to pay.

“Have some food with me later,” she heard in that rough voice she was avoiding for the last ten minutes. Her spine melted straight into a puddle, sure if she put her hand back there it would be sopping wet.

She kept on drying glasses. “Ruby. I can see you hear me.” He laughed rough, braced his arms on the wood, leaning his mass forward. Even sitting on the stool, he was incredibly big. “Anything you want. Italian. Chinese. Hot dog. Poptart. Come on, what can it hurt? You gotta eat.”

“I’m not hungry. And I’m working.” See, that was easy enough, she self-high-fived.

“Not now, beautiful. After work.”

“I don’t finish until four.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Working.”

Persistent biker only laughed like he wasn’t bothered by the rejection.

That noise bothered her in a low region of her pants and a tiny bit higher where her boobs were. Ruby cleared her throat and hoped that was the end of it because ----

“How about next weekend? The club is having a party, the first cookout of the season, come on by.”

She sighed, sidled up to where he was sat, they were eye level, so close she could see every whisker crop shaved on his jawline and the bright flecks of blue in his irises. Full lips smiled with his head cocked. Fuck, he was attractive.

“Preacher man, take the very-obvious hint.”

“Nope. Come on, Ruby, you’ll enjoy yourself. Say yes.” Something dark and enticing entered his voice.

“Since when do you date? Is this the long game to get me into the bathroom?” She’d been told once her snarky tongue was like the devil.

He smirked. “Since now, apparently. Are you really gonna turn me down on my maiden voyage? Have a heart, beautiful.”

“Sorry. I don’t want to date you.”

Her standards were fair; no fuckwads with tiny dicks, freeloaders or mansluts. While she didn’t think, Preacher had a tiny penis, more than likely he was smuggling a tree trunk down there, not that she wanted to think of what he had hanging between his thick thighs, and she didn’t guess he was a fuckwad per say, in fact, he was always nice to the bar staff, he seemed to be popular with his boys, and he always paid for drinks, so that took care of the gold-digger, but she shouted bingo with his manwhoreness. The guy fucked anything that moved. She’d seen him with some of the temporary waitresses who shared a brain cell between them, so his tastes there let him down.Sorry, pal.Standards were in place for a reason.

“Why not?”Really?Even after that, the fucking man was unfazed looking at her like he was already licking her skin with that small smile edging his mouth. Jesus.

At that moment the other bartender Tom, a college kid, came on shift, she moved pressing her belly to the bar, putting her closer to Preacher for a second, so Tom could get by to the other cash register. Preacher used that one fucking second to smile almost nose to nose, to let her smell his cologne and say. “I’ve sat here ten minutes and watched you sneak glances at me eight times. Say yes, Ruby.” His stare was direct. Every glance she’d ever had from him was borderline inappropriate, but therewassomething else going on.

The commanding way he used his voice did something physical to her insides, they began to boil and pulse, growing wet and needy where places shouldn’t be wet and needy,dammit. She could not catch the tingles for Asher Priest of all men for fucks sake. She scowled and turned a vicious tongue on him, embarrassed by her body’s reaction, she naturally fired first, verbal bullets flying randomly.

For someone who worked in a bar, casual socializing was not her forte when people were drunk, but this sober directness had her jumbled inside.

“I don’t want to date you, Preacher, now or ever, you’re not my type. Go hook up with a bar-bunny, hey look, there’s a shit ton of women with their tits out over there, knock yourself out.”

“Damn. Jugular, beautiful.” Preacher laughed, straight even white teeth on display. “I fucking like that. I’ll wear you down. But I gotta head back to my boys, they missed me, even if you didn’t.” Sliding off the stool in a lithe move, he stood tall and winked before striding back to where the rest of the Renegade Souls sat drinking and laughing.

Over the next hour more of the biker men joined the two tables, they never caused any hassles, they spent a lot and flirted a lot with the waitresses gravitating to their station.

Ruby slyly watched it all, and goddammit, every time she looked over, Preacher was staring at her. Smiling. Knowingly.

She did not want to date that man.