Page 15 of Twister’s Salvation (Saint’s Outlaws MC: Madison, WI #1)

Tempi

“Go.”

I shook my head and leaned on the bar.

“We’re busy.”

Britta scoffed and dramatically waved a hand around the nearly empty bar.

“Girl, do we need to get your eyes checked or something? Two frat guys are playing pool, and Josh is watching the Brewer game on the TV. Yeah, so busy.”

I crossed my arms.

“But what if it gets busy?”

“If I miraculously get slammed with customers, I will call you,”

Britta said with a sigh.

“You’re going down to the Sam James building, not Timbuktu. Go see the biker boys’ clubhouse.”

“I don’t think he would like you calling him biker boy.”

She rolled her eyes.

“He won’t know unless you tell him I call him that. Go.”

“I can’t go in my work clothes.”

Britta looked me up and down, one eyebrow raised.

“Do you even have clothes that aren’t work clothes?”

I mean... not really. But I had some work clothes that were better than others. Tonight’s outfit was bottom of the barrel: baggy jeans, a black T-shirt, black Converse, and my hair was piled on top of my head like a cinnamon bun gone rogue.

I imagined Twister in his cut, looking all hot and sexy like he always did, and groaned.

“I’m not going,”

I blurted.

Twister was drop-dead gorgeous, and well... I was just drop-dead.

“Get out of your head, Tempi, and go on the facts.”

I rolled my eyes.

“The facts are I’m chunky and look like I need a shower.”

Britta grabbed a glass and filled it with ginger ale.

“You’re not chunky; you are all sexy curves, and you can take a shower to fix the other problem.”

She took a sip of her drink.

“Now, run upstairs, shower, change, and haul your cookies down the street to the clubhouse. I promise I’ll be fine by myself, and if I need you, I will call.”

“I shouldn’t be leaving you alone.”

Britta pulled out her phone, swiped a few times, and held it to her ear. A moment later, it rang loudly.

“What’s up, B?”

Tyson answered.

“Hey, brother,”

Britta called.

“I’m trying to get Tempi to go ride the local biker, and she won’t go unless you come over here and watch me like someone’s going to kidnap me.”

“Kidnap you?”

Tyson chuckled.

Britta smiled.

“Ain’t gonna happen because I like my cupcakes and cookies too much. Just get here so Tempi can go for a ride on her biker.”

“Britta!”

I hissed. Thank God there wasn’t anyone within earshot.

“I’ll be there in twenty. That soon enough?”

Tyson replied.

“Perfect,”

Britta said sweetly, then ended the call. She wiggled her fingers at me.

“Now go run upstairs to shower and get dressed.”

“This is crazy,”

I muttered.

“You are crazy,”

she corrected.

“Goodbye, Tempi. Enjoy your biker.”

She turned and winked at me over her shoulder.

I threw my hands in the air but headed upstairs anyway. There was no sense in arguing with Britta when she got like this.

I opened the door to my apartment, kicked it shut behind me, and headed straight for the bathroom to turn on the shower. Steam began to fog the mirror almost instantly.

I went to my closet and surveyed the situation. It was basically a collection of jeans and T-shirts. I had two button-down blouses, but the last time I wore one was to my dad’s funeral. That was not the energy I wanted tonight.

Comfort. That was key.

I grabbed my Def Leppard shirt and my favorite pair of jeans. Moving to my dresser, I opened the top drawer. I could get a little racy with my underwear, though. The odds of Twister seeing them were slim, but hey, a girl could dream.

I grabbed the teal and black lace set, then headed to the bathroom.

I peeled off my clothes and stepped into the shower. It was an everything shower, deep wash, exfoliate, shave... everywhere. I didn’t think anything was going to happen with Twister, but it never hurt to be prepared.

After scrubbing, shaving, and rinsing off twice, I stepped out and wrapped myself in a towel. I blow-dried my hair, skipped makeup—I didn’t wear it anyway—and got dressed. Once my shoes were on, I headed back downstairs.

Tyson was sitting at the bar with a burger and a beer.

“You clean up good, boss,”

he called as he popped a fry in his mouth.

I rolled my eyes and grabbed my wallet from under the bar.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be. Make sure you call me if you need me.”

Britta waved me off.

“I am not going to need you. The whole Badger football team could walk in the door, and I would still not call you.”

I laughed.

“Yeah, because you’d be too busy to do anything but sling beers and cheese curds.”

She blew me a kiss and turned back to Tyson.

I stepped outside and paused, looking up at the sky. It was just after eight, and the sun was still hanging on. I took a deep breath and started walking down the street.

Never in a million years did I think this is what I’d be doing on a Thursday night.

“You have lost your mind, Tempi,”

I muttered.

This was nuts. I should go back to the bar. Who did I think I was, just waltzing into the Saint’s Outlaws clubhouse?

I spotted two guys standing outside and stopped in my tracks.

“I can’t do this,”

I whispered.

I was just about to turn around when I heard it.

“Tempi!”

Of course. Of course he would walk out right when I was ready to bolt.

He nodded to the guy next to him and made his way toward me. I didn’t move.

Twister looked like sin on two legs in his leather cut, white shirt stretched over his chest, jeans riding low on his hips, black motorcycle boots... drop-dead gorgeous didn’t even cut it.

His eyes roamed over me, and I felt the heat crawl up my neck.

“Where you headed, doll?”

he asked and stopped just in front of me.

I opened my mouth but nothing came out. I was stuck in place.

He didn’t wait for an answer.

“Why don’t you come on in and check out the clubhouse?”

“Oh, uh, well, sure,” I said.

He grabbed my hand and led me forward. The outside of the building still looked mostly the same, but the inside...

He opened the door and pulled me in.

“Welcome to the Saint’s Outlaws, doll.”

The place was nearly finished. Exposed brick walls, polished floors, long wooden bar. A few guys sat at tables, nodding greetings. One guy gave me a two-finger salute from the pool table.

We walked through the common room, and Twister gave me the tour. Upstairs, he pointed to the bedrooms that still needed some work done, but they were totally livable. Downstairs, he showed me the rooms they were working on and something he called Church.

We ended up back at the bar. A guy with “Prospect”

on his cut placed a beer in front of Twister.

“What can I get you?”

the prospect asked.

“Uh, I’ll just have a Coke. Not really much of a drinker.”

He nodded.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

He glanced at Twister, who gave a small nod.

“Cord, ma’am.”

“Nice to meet you, Cord.”

He nodded again and went to pour my soda.

“You own a bar, but you’re not a drinker?”

Twister asked.

Cord set my soda in front of me and then disappeared.

I took a sip and shrugged.

“Happens when you’re around something all the time. Britta barely eats burgers anymore after making them constantly.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense, doll.”

“So, when are you guys going to be done with the renovations?” I asked.

Twister grunted.

“We’ve been a bit derailed. Had some city inspector drop in today and drop a bunch of violations on us this morning.”

My jaw dropped.

“Are you serious?”

Twister nodded.

“As a fucking heart attack, doll. Guy was so full of shit. He didn’t even come in to look around. Said there were some public complaints against us and then said the permits we applied for don’t apply to the work we are doing.”

“Did he tell you what permit you needed?”

He shook his head.

“No, and it wouldn’t really fucking matter because I didn’t apply for any fucking permits. This is our home that we’re fixing up. Pretty sure building a few walls, slapping some paint on them, and putting in new floors doesn’t need permits with the fucking city.”

“Maybe it’s all a technicality,”

I said.

“I’ve dealt with the city before, and it was all pretty easy. I had to change the ownership of the bar into my name, and it was totally painless. I’m sure this is all just a misunderstanding.”

Twister sipped my beer.

“Gramps is looking into it. He lives for paperwork and numbers. We’ll get it figured out.”

I set my drink down.

“You know what I think you need?”

“What do I need, doll?”

His eyes connected with mine, and my heart fluttered.

I cleared my throat and took a quick sip of my Coke.

“Have you had a chance to explore Madison more?”

He shook his head.

“Not much time. Clubhouse and Saints’ Smash has kept us busy. And now with this permit violation shit...”

“The what?”

“Saints’ Smash,”

he said with a grin.

“That’s what we’re calling it.”

I laughed.

“That’s actually kind of brilliant.”

I drained my Coke.

“It seems like you have a bit of time now. How about a guided tour?”

He raised a brow.

“From you?”

I smiled. “Why not?”