Thunder (Hell's Handlers MC 10)

Her eyes widened, and she found complete sentences impossible. “Apologize? Why?”

“Shit,” he said, looking heavenward as he shook his head.

Mak waited. Resisting the temptation to peek at the ceiling grew near impossible, the longer he stared at it. What was he searching for?

“I was a dick to you the other night,” he finally said. “I was trashed, flying high from patching in, and looking to fuck.” He winced and glanced down at Emmie. “Sorry.”

With a giggle, Mak said, “No worries, she’s out.”

“Right. Anyway, I was just…fired up, and you were there, and…” He shrugged.

Ouch.

He was drunk, horny, and she was there. What girl wanted to hear those words? Even with her dismal lack of experience, that rejection was evident enough to hurt. Mak swallowed a lump and plastered a smile on her face. This was for the best. Truly. Saved her any awkward conversation about her obligations and inability to start anything up right now—even a strictly physical relationship.

Especially that kind of relationship. It’d lead to nothing but embarrassment and force her to reveal too many secrets from her past.

So instead of letting the seed of his dismissal bloom into insult, she kept up the face smiling. “Don’t worry about it. I, uh, figured it was something like that. You don’t seem to have an enemy in the world, and I’m pretty sure everyone loves you, so I don’t think you’re a dick. Don’t worry about it.”

“All right,” he said, flashing her the smile she’d grown accustomed to seeing on his face for the first time that evening. “Friends, then?”

She nodded, but the agreement lodged in her throat. “Friends.” It took considerable effort to push that one word off her tongue. It tasted bitter.

“Seems like you have a lot going on,” he said in a gentle manner as though he sensed her inner battle.

God, how embarrassing. Last thing she wanted was for him to think she was pining away and mourning the missed opportunity of being his…whatever.

Fling? One-night stand? Hook-up?

She’d lived in the real world long enough to understand that’s how most operated, at least those around her age, but the notion was so ridiculous she almost laughed out loud. Instead of obsessing, which was what she didn’t want him to think she was doing, she should be thanking him for the reminder of what her life was and wasn’t.

“I do,” she said with a firm nod. “Have a lot going on. I always do. And I can always use an extra friend. So, thank you. You didn’t need to come all the way out here for this, but I’m glad you did. So is Emmie.”

With a genuine laugh from Thunder, much of the tension in the room dissolved. “Hell, you won’t hear me complaining about a free homecooked meal. It was delicious as fuck, by the way.” He winked.

Mak’s cheeks heated. This conversation seemed to lighten him back to his usual friendly, cheerful self. His mood was infectious, and she found herself grinning back at him.

“Shit,” he said, glancing at the crooked clock on her wall. “I’m due at the clubhouse for church in an hour.”

“Oh, okay, let me grab Em—”

Mak’s cell rang from the kitchen. “Shit.”

That freakin’ smile of his was going to be the death of her. It made her want to lick his mouth, and never in a million years would she have expected that thought to cross her mind.

“Go grab it. I’m good for a few more minutes. I’ll keep the princess.”

“Okay, um, thanks,” she said as she darted into the kitchen. Kristy’s name shone from her face up, cheap, pay by the minute phone resting on the counter. “Hey, Kristy,” she said as she answered.

“Hey, girl, I only have a minute before I gotta get my ass on stage, but I wanted to run something by you.” Music pumped in the background, probably from the club where Kristy worked.

“Sure, what do you need?”

“I’ve got a bartending job for you, kinda like the one you did for the Handlers if you’re interested.”

If she was interested? Hell, she was always interested in extra cash. “Yes. Definitely interested. Where is it?”

“At another club a town over. Not too far.”

“Awesome. Tell them I’m interested, and I can get all the details from you when you have more time.”

“Mak, they’re not exactly like the Handlers.” Kristy’s voice had taken on a note of caution.

Mak’s forehead scrunched. “What do you mean?”

“They’re a little…rougher around the edges. A little less respectful.”

She chewed her lower lip. “But I’ll just be bartending, right? That’s all they want from me.”

“Yes,” her friend said with finality. “These guys like to drink and always have trouble keeping up with the demand. You’ll be busy as hell working the bar, and they pay well. They’ll give you five hundred dollars for a four-hour stint.”

“Holy shit,” she muttered. Five hundred? Five hundred? God, she could really use that extra cash. So what if she had to fend off a few aggressive advances? She’d dealt with far worse. “That’s incredible. I’m in, Kristy. So, so in.”