“Damn right we would,” all three of the men said at once, to which Birdie went off on them.
Dare zoned out, thinking about Billie. She had a right to hate him. The last thing he’d said to her before Eddie died was not to marry him. She’d lost the man she loved, and Dare had lost both of them. As a therapist, he understood her grief and everything she was going through, but as her friend, he wanted to help her deal with it and bring back the fun-loving, fearless girl who would have sold her soul for a career in motocross and a lifetime full of adventures. But she’d buried that part of herself right alongside Eddie, leaving Dare to sit in that bar year after year, watching guys hit on the best friend he loved and the woman he couldn’t help but adore, despite the giant chip on her shoulder and those beautiful eyes shooting darts at him every chance she got.
She was waiting on tables, flashing that gorgeous smile, and tossing her long dark hair over her shoulder, getting hit on and doing as much flirting as she was shutting down. But that was Billie, confident as the day was long. She knew how to earn tips and how to protect herself. At least physically. But that tender heart of hers was all kinds of broken, and Dare was just the man to fix it.
She glanced over, catching him staring. Her eyes narrowed, and she turned away, wasting that stunning smile on the four badass Transom brothers, who looked like starving dogs salivating at their next meal.
Fuckers.
The blonde and her friends sidled up to Dare. “You want to get out of here with us?”
“Hell yes.” Anything to distract himself from thoughts of Billie.
“Um, hello? Nice introduction, brother dear,” Birdie chirped at him.
He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “No need for you to worry your pretty little head with introductions. I don’t know their names, and even if I did, I’d forget them by tomorrow.”
He followed the three women to their apartment and spent far too long listening to bad music, ridiculous conversations, and inane questions about being a biker—Do you, like, trade women? Have you ever killed anyone? Have you ever been in jail?—to which he could have responded, Hell no, not directly, and no. Thanks to Billie pulling my head out of my ass the summer after my junior year of college, I managed to stay out of jail, and now I help other people see the errors of their ways. But he didn’t waste his breath, because it was closing time at the Roadhouse, and as he dodged enticing offers for group play, which he’d totally be into if Billie hadn’t stirred up shit in his brain, those lovely women reminded him of all the reasons he wanted to leave.
He was done wasting time with women he didn’t care about. He’d lost Billie because he hadn’t fought for her. Well, guess what, Mancini. It’s time to knock that chip off your shoulder and face this shit head-on before our whole lives pass us by.
DARE DROVE HIS motorcycle around the bar to make sure the asshole Billie had given shit to wasn’t hanging around, and then he parked out front to wait for her and Bobbie to leave, just as he’d done hundreds of times before. The parking lot was empty, save for Bobbie’s Jeep, Kellan’s car, and Billie’s old truck. There was a time when the only things she’d drive were fast cars, motorcycles, and motocross bikes. Back then, she’d have hauled his ass up on the bar and laughed when her parents told them to get the hell down. Man, he missed that wild streak.
He looked up at the neon orange ROADHOUSE sign above the front doors and the wide front porch that spanned the length of the building. He could still picture fourteen-year-old Billie standing on the steps in her cowgirl boots and cutoffs, with a dirt bike helmet tucked under her arm and sass pouring out of her mouth. When they were growing up, he’d thought that bar was the coolest place around. It was pretty great and full of amazing memories, but now he knew it wasn’t the place that was the coolest. It was Billie, with her larger-than-life personality and that arrogance that had always gotten under his skin. It was Eddie, too, he thought with a stab of longing. He’d been the calm to their storms, and Dare missed him every damn day.
The front doors of the bar opened, and Kellan and Bobbie walked out, locking the door behind them. Dare climbed off his motorcycle as they descended the stairs.
Kellan nodded at Dare and said, “Have a good night,” as he headed to his car.
A concerned smile almost reached Bobbie’s eyes. Her blond hair fell to the middle of her back. She was more sweetness than sass and was a few inches shorter than Billie, but she could definitely hold her own.
“Hey there, darlin’.”
Bobbie crossed her arms. “Billie’s not going to be happy to see you out here.”
Tell me something I don’t know. “After the shit she pulled with that asshole tonight, do you really think I’d let you two walk out of here alone?”
“I know you better than that, and so does she. But Kellan was here.”
“And he left with you, which means she’ll be walking out alone,” he said as Kellan drove out of the lot.
Bobbie sighed. “You’re right. Thanks for watching out for her. I know my sister doesn’t make it easy, but I’m glad you do it.”
“I’ve been doing it our whole lives, darlin’. It’ll take a lot more than her smart mouth to stop me.”
“I know that, too.” She headed to her Jeep, calling over her shoulder, “Watch yourself. She keeps a knife in her boot.”
She always has. “You know I like ’em feisty.”
A little while later, Billie came out the front door. Her keen eyes swept the lot, getting hung up on Dare. He could practically feel the earth move with the roll of her eyes as she came off the porch.
She headed for her truck, not slowing down when he fell into step beside her. “What’re you doing here?”
“Same as always—keeping you safe.”
She stopped in her tracks, the air chilling. “You’ve been showing up here for as long as I can remember. Have I ever once needed your help?”
“Do I really need to remind you of all the times you’ve needed my help right here in this parking lot?”
“Did all that partying you did after high school mess up your brain? Because I can’t remember ever needing your help.”
“Last year. The prick from Wisconsin with the eyebrow ring.”
“I could have handled him.”
“No doubt. But you shouldn’t have to. And the two guys who were passin’ through town a few months before that, who you flirted with so damn much they followed you home?”
Her eyes narrowed. “What’re you talking about? Nobody ever followed me home.”
“Who do you think stopped them from fucking you up?”
“What…?” She shook her head.
“Yeah. Those stitches I got in my cheek? They weren’t from a fight with Cowboy.”
Her brows knitted.
“That’s right, darlin’. I see you doubting it. But you know I don’t lie. You’re tough as nails, but two guys against one unsuspecting woman? You wouldn’t have had a chance.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I took care of it and made sure they left town.”
“Thanks, but I’m not your responsibility.”
Maybe not in your eyes, but I’m loyal to the bone. “You became my responsibility the day you poked me in the chest and said, You’re my new best friend. Let’s go get into trouble, and made me pinkie swear on it.”