Harley (Cerberus MC)

The small number of cars in the parking lot becomes useless in my reasoning because the people of Farmington must carpool or actually do the right thing and have designated drivers because there are a lot of people inside.

Numerous sets of eyes land on us the second we step inside, and I don’t miss how several women perk up at the sight of Boomer. There’s not an ounce of jealousy in my body where he’s concerned, but it seems a little weird that some women are still glancing our way despite our hands still being together. It speaks to others of possession, and at least some form of a relationship, although we both know that’s only friendship.

My eyes scan the room, looking for threats and anything I may need to be aware of. I register the exit sign on the opposite side of bar top and the other one in the far back corner.

That’s when my eyes land on the group of men wearing familiar leather cuts. As I scan the group, I don’t miss that Rivet and Slick are absent from the group, making them being here a guys’ night out of sorts, I suppose.

I am a little shocked to see Harley right in the center of them, and even more so when we head toward the bar instead of the group.

“I’m guessing you don’t want to sit with them?” Boomer asks as he pulls me along, ignoring everyone in the bar but me.

“You’d guess right,” I mutter, wishing I had eyes in the back of my head, more so I can see what Harley’s doing than fear of someone sneaking up on me.

I can admit I was a little scared to come inside, but that fear ebbed away at knowing more than one Cerberus man is in here with me. Now I just feel a little lost because I told myself I wouldn’t think of him once tonight. His presence is going to make that impossible.

“Hey,” the man behind the counter says, grinning at my friend in a way that makes me feel like I’m imposing.

Boomer nods in greeting, looking away quickly. “Do you want water or a soda, maybe?”

“Oh, hi! I’m Drake. Didn’t mean to flirt with your boyfriend. Hazard of the job.”

“Ali,” I tell him with a wide grin. “And he’s not my boyfriend. Feel free to flirt away.”

Drake bites the corner of his bottom lip as his eyes skate back in Boomer’s direction. “You guys in those leather cuts sure are good for business, but I think I may have to keep you for myself.”

Boomer makes a choking noise, glaring at me like I’ve somehow betrayed him. I give him a wink, and his head starts to shake as if he’d never even consider Drake, the handsome bartender.

“A soda would be great,” I offer with a smile.

“Two sodas,” Boomer says as he turns back to Drake.

“You look like a man that can handle a splash of whiskey in his,” Drake says, and I can tell he’s still flirty rather than trying to upsell alcohol.

“Not interested,” Boomer says with a gruffness in his tone I’ve never heard before.

“Noted,” Drake says as he backs a foot away from the counter. “Just let me know when you are. Two sodas coming right up.”

Boomer looks irritated when he waves his hand out to indicate two empty stools, and I keep my eyes on him as he waits for me to sit before grabbing the other one.

“That man was flirting hard with you.”

“That man flirts hard with everyone.”

“Flirting helps make more sales,” I explain.

“Does taking them home at the end of the night increase sales also?” His eyes find mine, and he seems incredibly irritated, threatening to ruin the entire night.

I hate to admit that knowing Harley is here makes me want to stay, whereas minutes ago, I didn’t even want to walk inside.

“Maybe that’s how he makes his tips,” I tell him with a saucy wink. “You sound a little jealous. Did you—”

“Never,” he snaps before I can even finish my question. “That’s not who I am. Can we just drop it?”

“Consider it dropped,” I say, smiling when I see Drake approaching with our drinks. “Thank you.”

“Let me know if you need anything else,” Drake says, his eyes darting to Boomer before dropping to the bar top.

He dashes away to help someone else, and since I’m in no mood to talk about what’s going on with me, I don’t really have a right to force Boomer to talk about what’s going on with him. I can tell that he’s dealing with his own load of shit, though.

“To a fun night and no drama,” I say, lifting my glass.

He clinks his against mine, but there’s no excitement in it as his eyes follow Drake, as the man works behind the bar.