Page 9 of Rogue’s Path (Sweet Chaos #1)

Dylan

We need to get some coffee and water into Cordelia fast. I help her to the table. What was Dahlia thinking picking this place?

A dive bar must have sounded mysterious and dangerous to her. But this place gives off cheap drinks and serial killer vibes. My shoes stick to the floor. What are the seats going to be like? At least this is the last stop. I can shower and toss…and probably toss this dress in the trash.

“I think this has been one of the best nights of my life.” Cordelia leans heavily on me.

It has been fun.

Scary. But fun!

“Do you think I’ll remember it? I’ve only gotten this drunk a few times in my life.”

Same. I’ve only been drunk three times. Two of those were in high school. “Did you remember those nights?” Because I didn’t want to remember the day my parents told me they were getting divorced. Drinking what was left of their bottle of tequila in my tree house did nothing to stop the pain.

“Mostly.”

“Then tonight will be no different.” Probably.

It doesn’t take long for the waitress—I thought they couldn’t hire minors to serve alcohol—to drop off our drinks.

The cups look to be questionably clean. Hopefully, the coffee is hot enough to kill whatever germs might have been missed.

Though the sludge from before was a step up from this stuff.

They didn’t even attempt to get rid of the grounds.

Dahlia stands up. “So, there’s one final challenge left on our list. I put this one on it as a silly dare. Only do it if you want to.”

Uh oh. That one was scary enough that I put it out of my mind.

“The last dare is to ‘kiss a stranger’.

Even more than halfway to stupid drunk, Cordelia’s eyes go wide as she draws in a harsh breath.

My thoughts exactly.

Out of anyone in the group, Winnie would be my first pick to be bold enough to do this.

Would there be anyone I’d even consider kissing here?

Definitely not the guy with the puffed-out cheek that’s probably filled with chewing tobacco. EWWW!

Nope to the guy who doesn’t look like he’s showered in three decades. How did they even let him inside?

Yeah no, to the table of teenage boys that are probably trying out their fake IDs for the first time.

No.

No.

Gross.

Ewww.

A farmer. He’s probably in his thirties and appears to have bathed recently.

There’s something about his eyes that feels off.

Could the farmer be the serial killer in the room?

He goes from bar to bar finding victims that are too drunk to fight him off.

When they wake up, they find themselves in his barn or tied down in the pigpen.

Where do I come up with these things?

Moving on…

Bikers. This doesn’t appear to be a biker bar. And those rides outside were pretty fancy for a motorcycle club. Though who am I to question what a biker can afford?

They certainly aren’t hard on the eyes, especially the silver fox at the back. What is it about a dash of grey at the temples that makes a man sexy?

The man sitting next to him…Oh my! This guy is big.

Not in the bear sense like the guy at the other bar.

He’s muscular with broad shoulders and biceps that are probably larger than my thighs—who am I kidding?

I have some thick thighs—but they’re still impressive.

So is the tattoo work decorating them. Even from across the room, it’s clear he didn’t have some hack drawing on him.

But the best part of him has to be his eyes.

No, those full lips that his mustache and beard can’t hide.

It’s definitely his smoldering eyes.

Eyes which are staring right into mine.

They promise adventure mixed with more than a hint of danger.

Although that could be the cut he’s wearing talking for him. Do all those nights alone on the road get lonely?

This biker seems to have friends.

Friends who don’t feel as creepy as the farmer.

He gives me a slow smile as we stare at each other.

Kiss him or coward out.

Staying here at the table would be safe…smart.

But tonight isn’t about either of those things. I stand up and walk over, regretting my decision as soon as I get to his table.

Now instead of one set of eyes, all three of them are fixed on me.

Bikers aren’t exactly known for being as sweet as sugar.

Too late now to run away. “Hello.” I give them a small wave.

Yeah, that wasn’t awkward at all. “My friends over there dared me to kiss a stranger. Would one of you gentlemen mind kissing me?”

His lips tip up higher.

“I will,” the biker to my left says.

What?

The silver fox whaps him upside the head. “Clearly, she isn’t talking to you.”

“Oh. Well, if Rogue doesn’t kiss you, I will.”

Rogue… That’s kind of sexy in a bad-boy type of way. “Thank you.” I think.

“Anytime. And my services are available to any of your friends. They’re all hot.”

Why does that guy remind me of a precocious kid instead of the grown man his body clearly says he is. “I’ll let them know that.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

And the cute part just disappeared. How dare he call me ma’am? I can’t deal with that right now. My current situation doesn’t allow for too much attention to be given to anyone but the biker daring me to look away.

“Is Rogue ever going to kiss her?”

“He’s getting around to it.”

Is the silver fox right? “Are you?”

“That all depends on you.” Rogue stands up. “Do you want to kiss me or one of my brothers?”

Brothers from another mother is the only way these three are biologically related. “Well, one of them seems willing. He’s probably fairly decent at it too.”

“Yes, ma’am, I am very good at it.” The kid doesn’t lack confidence.

Rogue steps forward.

We’re playing a game, it seems. “Now I’m not sure. That’s a very tempting offer.” Rogue’s lips are the only temptation I see. They pull me towards him.

“I can see just how interested you are.”

His cologne wraps around me before his arms get close to me.

Fresh air and pine trees go stupendously together. Does that scent come from riding a motorcycle? Maybe I should try it sometime and see.

He stops close enough that our bodies would touch with the barest of movement.

Will he lean in first, or should I?

Manly men always seem to want to be the leader.

The conqueror. Rogue, on a battle horse covered in chain mail and armor, would have made an intimidating picture with a fine black steed covered in the blood of all of his enemies.

“I’m enthralled. But alas, the night is fading away, and my time is running short.

Battle lines must be drawn. Games must come to an end.

To the champion goes the spoils. Tonight, I shall triumph and celebrate mightily.

” That shall be all the warning I give him.

I tilt my head back and to the side as I lean forward.

Rough whiskers tickle my face before my lips reach his. Never having kissed a man with a beard before, a giggle escapes me. This alone is enough to make my night. But I have yet to conquer my dare.

One little mustache hair wiggles on my nose as our lips meet. It’s soft and sweet and oh so short.

“Do you call that a kiss?”

What! He didn’t. “Yes. I call that a kiss. By definition, kissing is the act of lips meeting.”

“Well then, I think we need to redefine the act of kissing.”

Rogue wraps his arms around me, pulling me tight against his body. Those whisper-soft tickles become rough even as his firm lips touch mine. The hoppy taste of his beer blends well with the lingering flavors of peaches and oranges. This kiss isn’t sweet, soft, or quick.

With one embrace, this man conquers my body and my soul. I lost this battle even though everything screams that I’m winning.

As fast as he enveloped me, he releases me, stepping back. “That is how we kiss.”

We kiss? Are we going to do it again? And again? Nope. A bad boy isn’t in my future. “Thank you for your assistance, gentlemen. I appreciate it.”

“So did we.”

The silver fox whaps him.

Rogue stays silent as I turn on my heel and walk back to all the women and Knight who are unapologetically staring at me.

Don’t let them see you sweat. I stop a little before the table and give them a cheeky little bow.

Laughter and applause ring out.