Culver:A Motorcycle Club Romance Novel(5)

By: Meg Jackson




I prayed that what I’d said didn’t sound desperate or anxious, but cool and flirty, like I intended. The stranger turned to me, a glint of humor in his eyes.



“Should I be in charge of the drink, or the girl?” he asked, giving me a lopsided grin. I felt myself blushing under his gaze. I’d been so enamored with his boyish but burly good looks that I hadn’t actually looked at the rest of him; as my eyes glanced over his long, tall body, my heart sped up.



He was covered in tattoos, which poked out from under his t-shirt and ran all along his arms, even on his knuckles. He wore tight, black jeans and an equally tight t-shirt under a brown leather vest; his hairy, muscular arms bulged under the sleeves of the shirt, and you could follow the deep V of his body all the way down…



I automatically drew my eyes back up to his face, embarrassed of myself for letting my attention wander in such an uncouth direction. I grinned nervously. “The drink, please.”



The stranger took the drink from my hand and followed me as I walked Alicia towards the table, where Becky was sitting with her hands over her mouth, watching us and laughing at the Three Stooges-esque antics. She gave me a look as I approached, one which I knew as well as the back of my hand.



It was Becky’s Really, Samantha? look, one she reserved for moments where she didn’t quite approve of my decisions but also didn’t feel it necessary to step in and actually stop me. I shot her one of my own patented Yes, Becky, Really, looks. Alicia was looking at just about everyone with her I Love You Guys So Much! look, and as I corralled her onto a seat she caught sight of the plate of French fries and gave them the same look.



“Oh my God! Are these mine? Can I eat these? I’m so hungry, guys,” Alicia said, not waiting for permission before grabbing a handful and shoving them into her mouth. A look of drunken bliss came over her and she laughed, her cute little laugh that made her so easy to forgive.



“Well, looks like everyone is safe, including the drink,” the stranger said, setting the fishbowl gingerly on the table between me and Becky. He stepped back, the same lopsided grin on his face.



“Well, thanks, uh…” I said, realizing he hadn’t told me his name.



“Boon,” he said, holding his hand out. I took it in mine, marveling at how large it was, and how powerful his grip was. Then, my mind processed his name. Boon? Oh come on, I thought, and raised an eyebrow as I looked back at him.



“Boon? Is that your real name?” I asked, blurting out the words before really thinking about them or how rude they might sound. Luckily, he seemed to have a sense of humor, and he chuckled and lifted his shoulders slightly.



“I’ll admit, it ain’t my birth name, but it’s what I go by, I swear,” he said, turning as if to go.



“Wait,” I called out, nearly falling off my seat to catch him by the elbow. Becky was giving me a series of hilarious looks, speaking to me in our silent best-friend body language, making fun of me for being so desperate. “Let me buy you a drink. As a thanks. And a sorry, for making fun of your name. I’m Samantha, by the way.”



“Well, you know, it wouldn’t be right of me to turn down a free drink,” Boon said, shrugging.



“I’m Becky, by the way,” Becky said, suddenly, almost too loudly, leaning in and holding her hand out to Boon. “And this beautiful mess over here is Alicia.”



“Hi,” Boon said, taking Becky’s hand in his.



“Hi!” Alicia said from across the table, suddenly coming to life after gorging on French fries. “We’re here from Missoooooooo-la, where’re you from?”



“Drink some water, drunky,” Becky said, pushing a glass of water towards Alicia, who responded by rolling her eyes and looking back at Boon.

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