He gave a chin lift and turned to Casey. “Later,” he said, squeezing her hand once before walking away.
“Who’s the chick?” Helm asked the second Rags slid behind the bar.
“Someone I know.”
Helm smirked. “Thought you had a rule about not doubling back with citizens.”
“She’s not like that.” Rags held up a hand. “And that’s the end of this conversation.”
Helm slammed the ice bin cover shut. “What the hell’s your problem?”
Rags ignored him, his attention drifting back to Casey. Since Julie, he’d kept things detached: one-night stands, no strings, no complications. The club girls knew the score. So did the hangarounds. Sometimes an occasional citizen mistook his attention for something deeper, and he’d learned to shut that shit down fast.
But Casey was different. She didn’t fit any of his rules.
Midnight came quicker than he expected. He and Throttle threw in their bar towels.
“You stayin’ with your chick?” Throttle asked.
“Taking her for a ride.”
Throttle grinned. “Have fun.”
Rags nodded.
Casey was already walking toward him, eyes bright, cheeks still warm from wine and heat.
“You ready to roll, darlin’?” he asked.
“More than ready. I thought midnight would never come.”
“Let’s go.” He grasped her hand and led her out back. The lot lights glinted off the curve of his metallic blue Heritage Classic Harley.
“It’s a beautiful bike,” she murmured, hand trailing over the leather seat. “I bet it’s as powerful as its owner.” She met his gaze, then slowly trailed hers over his face, across his leather jacket, stalling at his patches, then down to his snug jeans.
Rags yanked her to him and kissed her hard. “You keep looking at me like that, baby, and we’re gonna be fucking on my Harley instead of riding it.”
A sharp wind cut through the space and he felt her shiver. He wrapped his arms around her. “You sure about the ride? It’s cold.”
“Do you have a windproof jacket?” she asked.
A thread of surprise weaved through him. “No, but I’m sure we have some in the back. Have you been on a bike before?”
“Yeah,” she said, looking away.
Rags stared at her for a few seconds then guided her back inside. “Hang on, lemme see what I can find.”
After scavenging through biker gear in one of the back rooms, he snagged a jacket and walked back toward her.
“Here you go,” he said, handing it to her.
She beamed, her eyes dancing as she ran a hand over the thick, waterproof sleeves. She slipped it on and zipped the collar high, then took a pair of gloves from her purse and slipped them on.
“Lemme put your bag away,” he said, taking it from her before dropping it into the saddlebag. “You want a helmet?”
“No way. I want to feel the air’s sting on my face.” She laughed.
“I like a woman who’s up for an adventure,” he said, tapping the tip of her nose with his finger.