Page 12 of Twister’s Salvation (Saint’s Outlaws MC: Madison, WI #1)

Tempi

Wednesdays were usually slow.

Dinner brought a small rush, but otherwise, it was just a steady trickle of regulars and tourists who stumbled in by accident or fate. I didn’t mind. The quiet nights were when I got the most done, restocking the beer coolers, reorganizing the glassware, and tightening up inventory sheets.

At nearly ten, Britta was in the back flipping burgers for a group of college kids who came in hungry and half-drunk. I’d already poured them three rounds, and they were too focused on trying to beat each other in darts to cause trouble. Maggie nursed her brandy old fashioned at the end of the bar, like usual, chatting with anyone who came within a foot of her stool. The neon glow from the beer signs bathed everything in a warm and familiar haze.

I was wiping down the bar for the third time when the door creaked open.

I didn’t look up right away. A few more swipes, and I’d have the wood gleaming. But then the door clicked shut, and the sound of boots against the floor made me glance up.

Twister.

Alone.

Lord, help me.

Same cut. A blue shirt stretched across that broad chest. Same faded jeans hugging thick thighs and strong legs. The same black boots I’d noticed the first time he walked in here. But now, under the golden bar light and the low hum of country music in the background, he looked downright dangerous.

Panty-melting dangerous.

He walked like he owned the world. Slow, confident, and unbothered by the few curious glances tossed his way. He took the same seat at the end of the bar—the one he always seemed to favor.

I tossed my rag behind the bar and grabbed a fresh napkin. I strolled his way like I wasn’t just thinking about how his arms looked like they could throw me over his shoulder with zero effort.

I set the napkin in front of him.

“What’ll it be?”

His lips quirked.

“Whiskey. On the rocks.”

“Same thing you had last time,”

I murmured.

He shrugged one shoulder.

“Figured I’d stick with what works.”

I grabbed a clean glass and dropped two cubes in.

“Seeing you twice in one day,”

I said as I poured.

“Special occasion?”

“Felt like a drink.”

I handed him the glass and leaned just slightly against the back counter.

“The bar not set up in the clubhouse yet?”

“Oh, it’s set up,”

he said, and took a sip.

“And the guys are definitely using it. I just wanted a drink without all the bullshit that comes with it.”

I tucked the bottle back in its spot.

“Already sick of club life? You haven’t even been in town two weeks.”

He grinned.

“I’ll never get sick of club life, doll. I just need a little peace and quiet sometimes. Helps me think.”

“Lucky you,”

I said, glancing around.

“Tonight’s pretty slow.”

“Exactly what I was hoping for.”

Maggie waved me down, and I headed to refill her drink. A minute later, Britta hollered from the kitchen that food was up. I hustled the plate out to the kids at the table, then slipped behind the bar to serve two new customers.

All the while, I could feel Twister’s eyes on me.

I wasn’t imagining it. Every time I moved, and every time I bent down to grab something, turned to check a bottle, or leaned over the register, I could feel the heat of his gaze. But he didn’t call me over. Didn’t try to talk. He just sipped his drink and watched everything with that calm, dangerous air he always carried.

I filled his glass twice more, both times without asking. He gave me a low thanks each time, and that was it. No chatter. No flirting.

So he really had come in just to think.

Fine.

But I couldn’t stand watching him sit there without food. He was built like a damn Norse god, and there was no way that kind of body ran on whiskey alone.

I ducked into the kitchen.

“Hey, Britta,”

I called.

“Need one Wisconsin Burger. Double patties, cheddar, mayo, onion rings, curds, full monstrosity. And fries.”

Britta gave me a side-eye from the grill.

“He ordered something more than a drink?”

“Nope.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Girl, it’s about damn time a man catches your attention. I’m pretty excited that it’s a hot biker.”

I rolled my eyes.

“No one has caught my attention.”

“Right,”

she muttered.

“And I’m the new pope.”

She pointed the spatula in the direction of the bar.

“You want that man, and I am saying right here and now that you better let that man taste the rainbow.”

I blinked at her.

“Is that some new slang I haven’t heard?”

She shrugged.

“Nah. Just heard a Skittles commercial earlier. Guess it stuck with me, but it works. Let that man have a little taste of Tempi.”

I laughed and shook my head.

“How about you just make him a burger, and he can taste that, okay?”

“You’re no fun,”

she pouted, but she flipped the patties and got to work.

I returned to the bar and made the rounds until Britta called that the food was up. I grabbed the plate and brought it over to Twister.

He looked at the monster burger and then at me.

“What’s this?”

“You need to eat.”

He tilted his head. “Why?”

“Because I’m a responsible bar owner,”

I said.

“And if you want another whiskey, you’re going to have to eat something.”

He studied the plate.

“That is more than something, doll.”

“Yeah, it is,”

I said.

“But I promise it’s delicious.”

He picked up a fry and popped it into his mouth.

“I never doubted that it wasn’t. You working all night?”

he asked as he chewed.

I nodded.

“Till close.”

I left him to eat, refilling drinks and chatting with Maggie, who always had stories from her teaching days. By the time I returned to Twister, his plate was clean and his drink nearly gone.

I poured him another without asking.

“Last one,”

he said, and pulled the glass toward him.

“Need to be able to walk back to the clubhouse.”

I leaned on the bar, teasing, “I can always walk you to your door.”

He took a slow sip.

“I’ll manage.”

We were quiet for a moment. Then I said, “Did you take a walk to F & N Bikes?”

He nodded.

“Yup. I just wanted to introduce myself, as they seem to be wondering about me. Told them they might as well get their information from the horse’s mouth.”

“You didn’t,”

I laughed.

He smirked.

“Not in those words. But they know who the club is now.”

“That sounds... ominous.”

“Not really into dumbasses talking about me behind my back. Gave them the chance to ask me face to face.”

“And did they?”

“Nah. Not really. Think they were a little intimidated by Swift and Magnum.”

He smiled.

“And Hodge.”

I held up my hand like I was measuring someone tall.

“Is that the one who’s like seven foot tall?”

Twister nodded.

“That would be him, doll.”

“Yeah, I’d be a little wary of him too.”

“You should come by the clubhouse sometime. Meet all the guys. See what we’re building,”

he offered.

“I already met all of them,”

I said.

“Did you forget when you guys took over the bar last week?”

“Yeah, but I mean really meet them. See what we’ve done with the place.”

I nodded.

“Sure, sure. When I’ve got a second, I’ll be there.”

He gave me a look.

“Something tells me you don’t mean that.”

I laughed.

“Guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

A group of students paid their tab and left, and I went to clean their table. But I could still feel Twister’s eyes on me. The whole damn time.

And I tried not to think about it.

Tried not to think about how he showed up alone. How he came in just to sit in my bar. Tried not to imagine him without his clothes on.

Yeah, I was a bit of a goner.

He didn’t want me.

He just wanted a drink.

A little peace and quiet.

And my bar just happened to be the nearest place to get it.

That was all.

Right?