Burn My Hart (The Notorious Harts 2)

“Uhh.” He tilts his head back, actually considering the answer to my question. “None.”

I laugh softly and slide him his drink. “Okay, Temper it is.”

Suddenly feeling shy, I start to wipe down the counter while his friend returns from the bathroom and sits down next to him. “You didn’t order me a drink?” he asks Temper, unimpressed.

“Sorry, Prez, got a little distracted,” Temper replies, sounding amused.

Prez looks at me. “Hey, sweetheart, could I get a beer, please?”

“Sure,” I say, grabbing the first bottle I can reach from the fridge. “Is this one okay?”

He nods. “Perfect.”

Setting the beer in front of him, he throws some money on the table and smiles. “Thank you.”

My mother always warned me about the bikers passing through the bar, and while I have had bad vibes from other bikers in the past, I don’t get any from these two. But what do I know? I’m twenty-three and have never even left Nevada. I’m the stereotypical small-town girl, something I always thought I’d never end up being. Our bar is off the major interstate that is one of the only ways to get to Vegas from Southern California and vice versa. Because of our location, we see just about every type of person—truckers, families, young people and bikers.

“What time do you finish work?” Temper asks me as he stands to leave. “Can I take you out for dinner? Or coffee, or something?”

I shake my head, taken aback by his request. “No, I don’t think so. But thank you for asking me.”

He’s older than me; I know that much. If I had to guess, I would say he’s in his midthirties, which is maybe why I’m so surprised by the fact that he asked me out. If I’m being honest, while I am attracted to him, the age difference freaks me out a bit. I’ve been stuck here pretty much my whole life—I wouldn’t know what to talk to him about. I’d probably bore him to death. Also, I’m flattered, but I don’t think going out with a man by the name of Temper would be a good idea.

“Okay.” He nods, brown eyes flashing with disappointment before he masks it. “Have a good night, Abbie.”

“You too, Temper,” I respond, our gazes holding and lingering for longer than necessary.

Flashing him a smile, I head back into the kitchen to hide, pushing away a slither of regret that hits me out of nowhere. Yeah, he’s good looking, but so what? There’s plenty of good-looking men out there.

I’ve never been on a proper date before, and my first one isn’t going to be with a man like that.

Chapter One

Present Day

“That man keeps staring at you,” Sierra says under her breath, eyes on the cash register. “He’s kind of sexy, in an ‘I don’t know if I’m going to give you the best orgasm of your life or kill you in your sleep’ kind of way.”

I don’t bother looking up, because I already know exactly who she’s talking about. Temper, President of the Knights of Fury MC, has been coming into our family-owned bar, Franks, for several years now. He’s not a regular—in fact, the MC only passes through maybe once or twice a year—but he’s not someone that’s easily forgotten.

The last time he was here, he told me that he was now the president because his Prez had died, and he practically cried as he said it. When he asked me out, like he always does each time he is here, I almost caved.

Almost.

“Abbie,” Sierra growls. “Pay attention, he’s coming over here.”

I glance up just as he stands in front of the bar. “Abbie,” he says with a nod, smiling. “How have you been?”

“Not too bad,” I reply, taking in those brown eyes and shaved head. I’m not quite being honest. With my mom’s declining health, I’ve had to take over Franks, and had to drop out of college to do so. I spend every day here or at home, helping her as much as I can. My younger sister, Ivy, helps too, but I insisted she stay in college, so she can’t always be here.

One of us had to make a sacrifice, and I volunteered. She can still become something, get out of this small highway town and follow her dreams.

“Really? It’s been about eight months since I’ve seen you, and that’s all you have to say?” he asks, bro

w furrowing.

I wish I had something exciting to say, like maybe tell him about a vacation I went on, or a competition I won, anything really, but I have nothing.

“Just work,” I explain, smiling sadly. “Mom’s not well, so I’ve had to take over with running the place.”