Page 83 of Wicked Pickle

“Oh.” She hunches down.

“Are you interested in him?”

Her cheeks go pink. “No. I mean. Maybe.”

Of course, she is. That’s all Merrick needs. A virginal wisp of a thing trying to sow her oats. I better put her off. “He’s not much on girlfriends.”

“But you weren’t either and look at you and Symphony.”

Fuck. I knew this was going to cost me, but now I’m dragging my brother in on it. “Just know what you’re getting into.”

The drummer takes that moment to lean into his mic. “And this love song goes out to the pretty girl in blue at the bar.”

Everyone turns to look at Marietta. She presses her hand to her cheek.

Merrick looks up from the drink he’s mixing. I can’t quite get a bead on his expression, but it’s not good. “They’re fired,” he says.

Marietta whirls around. “Why? Because he’s singing me a song, and you won’t give me a ride?”

He shoves the drink at the man. “Oh, I’ll give you a fucking ride. I’ll ride you all the way into next goddamn week.”

I push on Merrick. “Let’s go check on the kegs.” I practically shove him through the door to the kitchen.

“What the fuck?” Merrick asks. “I’m just going to rail her and get it over with.”

“She’s a fucking cherry, bro. Don’t go there. She’ll expect a proposal. Let this one go.”

He breathes hard, glaring at me so hard I think his eyes are going to pop. “That piece of shit drummer is all over her.”

“I’ll get Pops to give her a ride.” Pops is a soft-hearted biker who settles a lot of disputes for the Wild Hair MC.

He takes a step back. “Why?”

“That’s all she wants. Some thrill.”

He crosses his arms. “No.”

“No?” What the hell has gotten into him?

Merrick’s jaw is set. “If she wants a motorcycle ride, I’ll do it.”

I shove his shoulder. “You like her.”

“Fuck you. I just want to be the one. In case.”

“Don’t fuck her on your bike. Take it easy.”

He shoves back at me. “You think I don’t know that?”

I punch his jaw, and he punches back. We scuffle until Vicki pushes through the swinging doors to throw a pitcher of water on us. “You goddamn Neanderthals were born in a barn. Knock it the fuck off and get out there before someone drinks straight from the kegs.”

I flip my hair and head into the bar.

Marietta’s gone. Shit, what now?

Merrick follows me in and notices her empty stool first thing.

“Where is she?” he asks, scanning the space.