Page 34 of Tracking Luxe

She was a big dreamer when it came to making money, minimal effort for a large pay-out, with less risk was her motto, but it never stopped her mentally robbing people, seeing how easy it would be to swipe their latest smartphone while they chatted, or to slip a set of car keys from a tight jeans pocket.

She could do it all, but having some ethics left, she never took that step into personal thieving.

“Hm, what?” tuning back in, she dragged her eyeballs back from the beard, looked across the table to find Jamie’s gaze on her, the bottle to his wet mouth.

A mouth she’d kissed.

“Not long at all. Mimi has some crazy idea she wants to go on a singles cruise. I told her those are full of desperado senior citizens who want to fleece her out of her life savings.”

Jamie’s VP laughed and twitched the ball cap he wore.

“And what did she say to that?” Asked Jamie, having heard stories about her abuela many times, who for a woman in her sixties had a better social life than Luxe did. At the last count, she was dating three gentlemen friends. Her grandmother was the original player.

“She told me she has no life savings and she was going on a cruise to get laid.”

Both men laughed.

In an alternate reality universe that cool Luxe would laugh, too, and say go, Mimi, get it, sadly Luxe was here and inwardly cringing to know her grandmother had a better sex life than she did, like in what world was that fair? Dios. Mimi was trying to kill Luxe with over-share. Wasn’t it bad enough she had to witness the old guys that came to pick her grandmother up for dates with horny smiles on their craggy faces, probably with a pocket full of Viagra as well.

Dios.

Dios.

“So, you’re rushing back home to stop the old girl from marrying at sea?”

“She sounds like a nympho-raver.” Amos chimed in. Before she knew what she was doing, Luxe reached across the table and thumped the cap right off his head. “Shut your goddamn mouth when you’re talking about my Mimi,” even if it was sorta-kinda true.

Amos growled, glaring, looking like he was about to knock her off her chair. The idiota could try. “Cool it.” Jamie told him.

“Yeah, listen to your master, good dog.”

Amos had always rubbed her the wrong way. Maybe because he was so loyal to Jamie and wouldn’t spit on anyone if they were on fire. Something about the man just didn’t add up. Besides which, he’d never gone out of his way to be friendly to her, either.

“Would you two knock it the fuck off, it’s like having kids.” Jamie rose. As tall and big as he was, with the shocking blue eyes and black hair, he just didn’t do it for Luxe, not in the way a lover needed to. It would be so easy if she could fall in love with him since they were friends, they’d been there and It hadn’t worked. “I should go play nice with the locals.” He indicated to the other MC table.

Thankfully Jamie’s lapdog AKA Amos followed and she watched the exchange with a guy wearing a top-knot who looked to be in charge, they met in the middle, slapped bro-hands and got into a talk.

She hadn’t realized until her eyes slid across their table that someone was watching her.

Oh, wow.

Beard guy staring directly at her.

Flutters began low in her belly, her boobs ache.

That sensation was what she’d been missing with Jamie. She’d tried to find it, hoped it would arrive after their failed dates and not a thing. One look from that beard and her body was feeling it all.

A tidal wave of lust hit Luxe so hard she could barely pull in a breath as the guy in the beanie hat winked over at her.

Without showing her shock, she arched an eyebrow, daring him to make a move.

He smirked and maybe he would have until someone at his side caught his attention and their eye-fucking was broken.

Shrugging, Luxe chose the next best option and walked over to the bar to buy something to eat. The woman serving smiled and tossed a mass of curls back away from her face. “What can I get you?”

“Tell her how good the fire wings are, Ruby.” Offered a deep rich baritone voice belonging to none other than the beard himself.

Recovering quickly from the two punches of heat from his masculine scent and the way his leather vest fit over his wide shoulders, Luxe addressed the bartender. “Just a bitter lemon Martini, please.”