Page 9 of Preacher Man

He pushed off the wall, boots, and wallet-chain clanking as he walked, he hooked up his leather jacket sliding it on. It was now or never, and Preacher wasn’t a man to give up.

“What about that party next weekend, Ruby? It’ll be fun.”

“Thanks, but no. I’m probably working. I need to get more shifts here while I look for a new job.”

His brows folded in. “You’re leaving the bar?”

“Not if I can help it,” she dumped a tray of empties on the bar. “But Otis can’t pay me more and I need the money.”

Well damn. Otis’ bar and grill without Ruby. That was Steak without A1.

“Come to the party, all the more reason for it, let loose for a while.”

Was that temptation on her face as she glanced over? He smiled trying a charm attack.

Working for pussy. This was new.

And before he could stop himself he was standing directly in front of her, making her crane her neck to look up. “Come to the party, Ruby. I want you there.”

Before she could give him an answer the door at the front crashed open, three of his boys barrelled in laughing and swaying as they advanced in, without thinking he moved her behind him.

“Forgot my damn wallet,” announced Snake in a loud boom, he trudged his feet over to where they’d been most of the night and found what he was looking for, giving Preacher two thumbs up gesture.Fucking subtle, brother.

For a second he’d been protective, of what? His boys seeing him about to lock lips with a woman? They’d seen him do worse.

His shoulders crept up with tension. His jaw taut.

Losing his shit over a woman. Had the world spun too fast on its axis and he'd lost his damn mind?

“What in the hell was that? I don’t need to hide behind you, dude.” She tried to shove Preacher out of the way, he just held an arm around her slim waist.

He wasn’t pleased about that shit, either. This was just about a hook-up, not marking his territory from his friends of all people. Not like any of them showed signs in sniffing around her.

He might have had to punch them.

Those randy boneheads he loved could sniff elsewhere.

******

She scowled at him. What in the hell had that been, shoving her behind him like he expected the big bad ogres to gobble her up? The man was crazy. She’d seen worse than a few drunks before. "I have perfectly good working legs, Preacher man. You all but threw me over your shoulder, frightened I might smile at your buddies? god, forbid. You can relax, I don't go with bikers."

His entire body swerved. A mass of muscle towering over her, keeping her locked into the side of the bar. "Is that so, beautiful?" His voice said he was about to prove her wrong. She blew out a gusty sigh and waited for it, the glint of his green eyes backed up his unspoken claim.

Why did she keep saying these things, she already pegged he was competitive?

"No, I take it back. I want to do them all. Line them all for me." she clapped like he was her manservant. Preacher laughed, the noise had the desired effect and tingled between her legs. "I'll start with the handsome blonde one in the blue T-shirt, he looked like a Hollywood movie star researching a role;When bikers go rogue. A smash hit for 2018."

He brought his stare to hers. His mouth curved with the hint of a grin. "Pretty-boy will like that if I ever told him, which I'm not."

"You’re saying he’s a forbidden bad boy? don't you know what that means to a woman? you did it now, he's looking damn good suddenly, move out of my way, let me go work my feminine wiles on mister Hollywood." she joked but he towered in her path stopping her from moving.

His head came down so they were eye-to-eye.

How could he look like a straight up axe-murderer and an underwear model at the same time? by rights he shouldn't appeal to her, he wasn't classically beautiful, his face had white scars, skin tanned from too much sun and he had lines under his eyes like he wasn't sleeping much, but, Jesus in heaven, he appealed on that primary most obvious level of she was so attracted to this man.

And that pissed her off.

Bikers were off limits.