Little Jack (Hell's Handlers MC 6)

Don’t get her wrong; Holly liked to have fun as much as the next girl, but really? Did this guy enjoy anything besides getting sloppy with his fraternity brothers turned thirty-year-old bros?

“I’m talking could barely tell up from down smashed.” He shook his head and chuckled. “Good fucking times, Holly. Good fucking times.”

“Mm-hmm.” Holly swallowed a mouthful of her wine. Sure, the irony wasn’t lost on her. Here she was, bored out of her mind with his verbal diarrhea aka reminiscing about days he could only partially remember thanks to booze, and it was driving her to suck back the alcohol much as she imagined he did on a regular basis.

But, come on, a girl couldn’t be expected to listen to this guy droll on without a little something to lube her ears.

Rick fell silent for a blessed moment, as though lost in the fantastic memories of his glory days. Shame to be only thirty and have his best times already behind him. Holly used the quiet to study him. He wasn’t an unattractive man. Nicely muscled, nothing model-worthy, but certainly no slouch. A neatly pressed charcoal button-up with dark wash jeans. Hair styled almost too well. And none of the antipasto appetizer they’d shared gleamed at her from between his teeth.

He just wasn’t for her. And whether that realization came about strictly because her father was pushing their connection or because she really had no interest, who knew? Wasn’t worth overanalyzing. Not when this first date would probably be their last.

“Shit,” he said with a bit of a self-deprecating laugh. “Where was I going with that story?”

Uhh, straight down the toilet?

Thankfully, Holly had only made it to the bottom of her first glass of wine, so the insensitive thought stayed in her head. “Um, not sure, but I’ve been meaning to ask how you like working for my dad so far.” She winced as soon as the sentence had been uttered.

Seriously?

That’s the best conversation starter she could muster? A question about his working relationship with her father? A father she was furious with at the moment. God, this date was about as exciting as waiting in line at the DMV.

Rick puffed out his chest, proud-peacock style. “Really enjoying it so far. I gotta tell you, Holly, your father has an impressive resume. He did some great work in Tampa before moving here. Working under Coleman was all right, but your father’s ideals and work ethic fall much more in line with my own.” His eyes practically glowed with adoration for her father. Now, every girl wanted a potential significant other to get along with her parents, but the hero-worship radiating off Rick was perhaps a bit too much. Didn’t speak well for a relationship if the guy was more enamored with the girl’s father than the girl.

Just as Holly went to ask exactly which ideals he was referring to, Rick tilted his head and gave her an almost boyish smile. “Want to know my favorite thing about working for your father?”

She snagged a sausage stuffed olive off the artfully arranged platter and said, “What’s that?” right before popping it into her mouth. Delicious. So far, the food was the highlight of the date.

“Getting to sample all of the amazing treats you’re constantly bringing by. If you offered me a million bucks right here and now, I couldn’t pick a favorite. Thought it was those pumpkin scones, but then you brought brownies, and those fudgy coffee-ball things—man, those were unreal.”

With a laugh, Holly said, “The espresso truffles.”

“God, yes.” His eyes rolled heavenward, and he let out a little moan.

Holly giggled as heat flooded her face. If Rick had been looking for a way to butter her up, he’d found it. Sure, she was a woman, and loved hearing she looked hot in a dress, or her hair looked nice, or someone admired her shoes, but compliment her pastries, and she’d pretty much bow at their feet.

Maybe she’d been too harsh on the guy. Judging him before getting to know him solely based on the sad fact this date had been a parental set-up wasn’t exactly giving the guy a fair shot. And if she were honest with herself, she was probably extra critical after the LJ debacle earlier in the evening.

Ugh. The moment she’d slid behind the wheel of her car, she’d promised herself the mortifying incident wouldn’t be thought of again until the date was over, and she was home. Alone.

But there she was, recalling the hatred on her father’s face. Hatred directed at the first man who’d stirred something in her in a long time.

A goddammed biker.

LJ had seemed like such a good guy. Kind, helpful, funny, intelligent, and…hello, sexy as all get out. The total package.

Wrapped up in leather trimming and riding a Harley.

Basically, the antithesis of all her family stood for. While Holly might not have viewed the whole of bikers in as harsh a light as the rest of her tribe, she wasn’t naïve enough to overlook the one-percenter patch on LJ’s cut. Nor was she stupid enough to pretend that patch didn’t mean trouble of the illegal variety. Plus, a life spent hearing about the evils of bikers had had an effect on her. She’d be lying if she said a little prickle of fear hadn’t skittered up her spine when she’d finally noticed LJ’s cut.