5 Bikers for Valentines

He might have been my brother, and he was owed his inheritance by right of his birth, but I'd worked for my father since I was fifteen years old, sacrificing so much, so that I could stand at the head of this company. There was no way in hell I was going to let someone take that away from me just because he could impregnate some random woman.

“I got this, mom,” I said.

My voice sounded calmer than I felt. I gave her hand a quick squeeze before picking up the documents, and ushered her out of the room, leaving me alone with Adam. He seemed smug, arrogant, and overly confident. He was smirking as we left my dad's office. Danielle stood up as we walked down the hall and stepped into the parlor, and she walked over to me.

I walked by her, not even listening to what she had to say. My mother fell into step bes

ide me, leaving Danielle in the parlor with Adam.

CHAPTER TWO

CASEY

“Yo, Casey, can you hand me that glass over there?” Tommy called out from behind the bar. “Guess someone forgot to wash it last night.”

“Sorry, we were here late,” I called. “What do ya want from us?”

My eyes were heavy with sleep and my body ached in places I'd forgotten it could ache. It felt like I'd just gotten off my last shift, and there I was again. The money was good, but the hours sucked. My feet hurt like hell and my shift was just beginning. Yeah, this was going to be one fun night.

“Chill, darling,” he said, grinning at me, holding his hands up in surrender. “Didn't mean it that way.”

“Yeah, well, I'm exhausted,” I said. “Sorry if I'm a little bitchy tonight.”

I handed him the glass and his fingers touched mine as he reached out to take it, sending a little electric charge through my body. Tommy must've felt it too because he winked at me. Being the son of the owner came with major benefits – like working only when you wanted to, not to mention getting breaks and shit the rest of us didn't get.

He also had his dad's rugged good-looks, which paid off pretty well when he worked behind the bar. Strong jaw, dark hair, and pale gray eyes. He was a man who could make the panties drop with minimal effort. The problem was, he knew it too. The cocky bastard.

“You know, one of these days, after the bar closes, we should – ”

I held up my hand and cut him off right there. I knew what he's going to ask, and the answer was always the same. A resounding no.

“You know I can't,” I said.

“Because you work too damn much.”

“Bills don't pay themselves, Tommy,” I said. “And I don't have a rich daddy to take care of me and pay my way.”

“But if you play your cards right, you could have a sugar daddy,” he said, tipping me a wink.

I snorted with laughter, nearly doubling over from it. Tommy wasn't so impressed, and his face darkened. He wasn't a man who liked to be laughed at. No, he was a man who wanted to be fawned over and adored. He wanted to be held up and admired.

Oh well, life, as they say, is a bitch.

“Sorry, it's just – you're cute and all, but Tommy, you can't be a sugar daddy when you're living off your parents,” I said. “That's not how it works, kid.”

I turned and walked away, still chuckling to myself. I could feel Tommy's gaze on my ass. I gave my hips a little extra swish just to tease him.

“Who you calling 'kid'?” he called after me.

He was right. He wasn't much younger than me, but it felt like we were separated by decades. That's what happened when one person had to live in the real world and the other person got to live and party like he was still in college. Not that I was bitter or anything.

Sometimes it was easy to forget that I was only twenty-three myself. Some days, I felt more like I was forty-three; worrying about a mortgage, making sure my siblings had clothes and food, paying all the bills. It took a toll on me. Tommy might have only been a year younger than I was, but life experience-wise, he had a long, long way to go before he caught up with me.

“Hey, chica,” Raya called out to me, her long, hennaed hair falling down around her bare shoulders. “How was it last night?”

“Boring without you here,” I said, playfully punching her in the arm.

She was off the clock still, sitting at one of the booths. Her feet were up on the seat and she moved them away, motioning for me to sit down. I was still technically off the clock too, for five more minutes, anyway, so I joined her. She was munching on some celery and what looked like some disgusting orange mush, and it smelled strongly of garlic, which was almost a blessing since it covered up the strong patchouli scent wafting off her. Almost.