Page 95 of Rags's Awakening
“Didn’t think you were gonna show up.”
Rags grunted and glanced at the drink-order screen.
“I’m glad you’re here. We’re fuckin’ slammed.”
“I can see that. How long you been here?” Rags asked, scanning the screen.
“’Bout an hour.”
“There’s a party goin’ on at the clubhouse. You know about it?”
“Smokey mentioned somethin’ the other day,” Throttle said, setting an icy mug and a bottle of Coors on a barmaid’s tray. “You didn’t know?”
“Nope. A lot of brothers from the charter clubs are there. It was good seein’ ’em again,” Rags said, pulling the tap handle on a Colorado Native Amber. His eyes stayed on the reddish-gold liquid as it filled the glass.
“I heard you’ve been MIA at the clubhouse the last couple days,” Throttle said.
“I had things to do,” Rags replied, tension rolling through his shoulders.
“Like pretend you’re not into the cashier at Owen’s nursery?”
“Dude, stop asking stupid-ass questions and take care of the fuckin’ line.”
Throttle chuckled and turned away, asking a cluster of giggling college-age women what they wanted.
“Hey, Rags. It’s been a while,” a throaty voice purred.
He glanced over and smiled at Krispen, one of the barmaids. She didn’t just brush past him; she crowded his space, fingers sliding deliberately around his forearm as she leaned in, her body pressing close.
“Hey.” His eyes flicked from the order screen to her, then back again.
“How’ve you been?” she asked, lingering too long, like she expected something.
“Good. You?”
“Better now.” She ran the tip of her tongue across her upper lip. “You look good.”
She squeezed his arm again, firm and possessive, before slipping past him, her hip grazing his thigh as if by accident.
Throttle snorted under his breath as he slid a ticket off the rail. “Yeah… that one-night stand probably wasn’t worth it.”
Rags threw him a sharp look. “I had no fuckin’ idea she’d be working here.”
“Citizens can be a real pain in the ass. A lot of them don’t understand the score. They’re not like the club girls,” Throttle said, already reaching for another glass.
Rags’s jaw tightened as he yanked a pint from the tap. “It was few years back, before the club had this place.”
“Still,” Throttle muttered. “She’s acting like she marked her territory.”
“That’s her fuckin’ problem,” Rags said flatly. “Not mine.”
Krispen slipped past him again, fingers grazing his forearm as she reached for clean glasses.
“Never thought I’d see you pass up pussy like this,” Throttle said.
Rags’s jaw flexed as he poured a whiskey. “Employees are off-limits at all our businesses.”
Throttle snorted. “Is that the reason… or maybe it’s that nursery chick wrapped around your dick?”
