Culver:A Motorcycle Club Romance Novel(10)

By: Meg Jackson




The bartender doled out one beer apiece and we moved to the back of the bar, taking a table that was already occupied by two younger guys, probably in their late twenties.



“We got any grass to spare?” Boon said, not even introducing us or his friends. The two guys looked Alicia, Becky, and I over slowly, taking their time with each one of us, their feelings about us not concealed at all. They were impressed. And maybe a little hopeful. Dream on, boys, I thought, sipping my beer. Becky was never going to give anything to someone who wouldn’t call her his girlfriend, and Alicia might be a boy-loving party-girl but she wasn’t exactly a slut, either. And me, well, I already knew who I was planning on ending the night with.



“For you? Sure. Always, my man,” one of the boys said, leaning back and pulling a baggie full of odorous green stuff from his back pocket. He threw it on the table, not a care in the world about the fact that marijuana is, in fact, still very illegal in the state of Nevada. Boon picked up the baggie and held it to his nose, breathing deeply.



“Ah, shit, this is that Bubblegum stuff, isn’t it? That we got from the Rattlesnakes? This is perfect. Anyone got papers?” Boon looked at the three of us and winked, that smile still lighting up his face. I felt woozy, and it wasn’t from the beer or the weird environment.



The guy who had thrown the weed on the table pulled a package of rolling papers out of the other pocket and tossed them to Boon, who began to pick at the marijuana.



“So, you girls indulge often?” He asked, his attention fairly focused on the joint he was rolling.



“Never, actually. This is just for Alicia here. It’s her goal for the trip,” I said, leaning forward and admiring Boon’s nimble fingers and the flick of his tongue over the paper.



“Oh? And what are your goals, ladies?” Asked the other boy at the table, the one who hadn’t spoken yet. His eyes glimmered like he was expecting something crazy to come out of our mouths. Something like “have a six-person orgy in the backroom of a biker bar,” I’d assume.



“I just wanted to gamble. And I did. I lost twenty bucks,” Becky said, finally relaxing as she sipped her beer and leaned back into the seat.



“And you, Samantha?” Boon asked, finally meeting my eyes as he finished up with the joint. I blushed, my heart racing, as I tried to decide whether or not to lie. I decided that this trip was about growth. Old Samantha would be embarrassed and lie. New Samantha was better than that.



“Make out with a stranger,” I said, as boldly as I could manage.



A wicked grin passed over Boon’s face. He held the joint out to Alicia, his eyes not moving from my own. “Ladies first,” he said, brandishing a lighter as Alicia held the joint to her lips.



“Right here in the bar?” Becky asked, mouth open in a comical look of shock.



“Trust me, honey, don’t no one here give a damn,” said one of the other boys. I noticed they were both looking at me with a similar look to the one Boon was giving me, and it made me blush even harder.



Alicia took a deep inhale and immediately began coughing and gagging; Becky pounded on her back while the boys laughed and several other men at the bar turned to our table.



“Try again, little sister, and this time hold it in,” Boon said. There was something in his voice that was so patient and kind that it really contrasted his bad-boy appearance. I felt my heart melting just a little more.



Alicia sucked in again, this time holding in the smoke, then exhaled loudly, a plume of fragrant smoke rising over the table. The three boys applauded, joined by some other patrons who were watching, and Alicia beamed, handing the joint back to Boon. He sucked in deeply before passing to the boy who had provided the weed. The joint made its way around the table and Alicia hit it once more, her eyes glassy. She was giggling pretty much non-stop, and the boys were looking at her in amusement.

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