5 Bikers for Valentines

“And I'll have the same as him,” Greg said.

I nearly jumped out of my skin, having forgotten that there was anyone else at the table for a second. I quickly composed myself as Malcolm averted his gaze, turning back to his phone.

“Girlfriend checking up on you,” I said, my mouth suddenly feeling parched.

“Nah, I'm actually – well, never mind.”

Greg cleared his throat and jumped in with a wicked little grin on his face. “Malcolm is single now. That's why we're coming here a little more often, if you hadn't noticed. He's trying to hook up with someone.”

Malcolm cringed and put his phone away. “I'm not trying to 'hook up' with anyone, Greg.”

“Then what are you doing on Tinder?”

“Tinder, huh?” I chuckled. “And here, I thought all the decently attractive, successful men had their own dating app out there, somewhere. Because God knows, you can't find anyone decent on Tinder.”

Greg butted in, flashing me a devious little smile. “Or maybe your standards are too high.”

I shrugged, giving Greg a dirty look. “Maybe so, but I'd rather have high standards than STD's,” I shot back at him. Something flickered within Greg's eyes. His teasing little smirk was suddenly replaced by a look that sent a cold chill sliding all the way down my spine. I stepped back from the table as his eyes darkened as he stared at me. He looked me up and down, undressing me with his eyes, a salacious expression on his face.

It wasn't that I wasn't used to men looking at me like that – it was one of the hazards of my job. But the way Greg was looking at me was different. His look, and the way he licked his lips, said that whether I liked it or not, he was picturing me naked and probably doing things I'd never do. At least, not with him. The expression on his face told me that to him, I was nothing but a set of tits and a vagina. A toy. Something for his amusement.

Clearly, I'd stepped out of line finally, or maybe Greg was just having a bad day. Either way, I didn't want to stick around and find out. I just wanted to be away from Greg.

“I'll get your drinks,” I said quickly.

I hurried away from their table, feeling Greg's eyes on me the entire time. I walked over to the bar and shuddered, taking a long breath and letting it out slowly as I tried to compose myself. Tommy stepped out of the back and poured himself a drink. “What's wrong, hot stuff?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I mumbled, giving my order to one of the other bartenders.

“Sure as hell looks like something crawled up your ass.”

“I said, nothing is wrong, Tommy.”

My voice came out harsher than I'd intended. Even Tommy didn't deserve the full brunt of my anger and I felt bad immediately after the words passed my lips.

First my dad. Then Greg. Now Tommy. I'd had enough with men in general and considering the fact that I still had an entire shift to work, I needed to keep it together. I couldn't go off on anyone tonight. Not if I wanted to keep my job.

“Hey, I did you a favor,” Tommy said. “Don't forget that.”

“You said I didn't owe you anything for it,” I snapped, still unable to keep my temper in check, even knowing he didn't deserve it. “If I knew you'd hold it over my head, I'd have done the damn dishes myself.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you do owe me, Casey,” Tommy said and glared at me.

“I don't owe you shit,” I muttered, grabbing the drinks the other bartender had prepared.

I turned to walk away but felt a hand on my ass. I froze in place, drinks in hand, as Tommy's hand moved up my skirt, sliding up the back of my thigh and cupping my ass cheek in his hand. He leaned in close to me, the smell of vodka on his breath as he whispered into my ear.

“If you want to keep your job, you sure as shit owe me, Casey.”

My entire body trembled, tears welled in my eyes, and I risked dropping the drinks. Instead of dropping them though, I pulled away from Tommy's grasp, turned around quickly and threw them in his face.

“Don't you dare lay a hand on me again, asshole!”

Tears stained my cheeks as I flailed, lashing out

at Tommy. He held his hands out, doing his best to hold me back, but I scratched and beat at them. I kept struggling and fighting, even as he lifted me off the ground. He was carrying me into the back, but I continued fighting, my vision nearly going black with rage. Nothing else mattered in that moment except for getting the hell away from him.

CHAPTER SEVEN