Beyond the Horizon (Sons of Templar MC #4)(46)

Bex waggled her eyebrows. “I bet you do, you saucy minx. If that kiss last night was anything to go by, I’m guessing that biker ruined you,” she said mischievously.

I screwed my nose up at her wording. “Yeah, well, he may have ruined me for all other men.”

“I need to know everything,” she ordered. “Positions, length, girth, width. Everything.”

I gave her a look. She knew I didn’t like talking about that kind of stuff, it just wasn’t in my nature. I may have been transitioning into a party girl, but I wasn’t going to change everything about me.

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, nana. Just tell me one thing, did he take care of you?”

I nodded slowly. “Oh, yes.”

She grinned.

“How about you?” I asked, needing to change the subject. “Any lucky man reel you in last night?” I remembered the men with Asher, thinking Bex would have loved them.

“Dylan’s asleep in bed still. I was the one who ruined him last night,” she winked at me.

I held my tongue at this. It was hard. Bex may have disapproved of Aiden because her character did not gel well with someone like him, but Dylan was different. He was a bad guy. Period. He and Bex had a turbulent on again off again relationship. I called it toxic. Bex called it passionate. I was worried about the fact he was in our house again. I knew that he was shady. He hung in circles I didn’t have anything to do with, and I’m pretty sure he had connections to a street gang that caused trouble around here. I didn’t know much about them, but I knew they were bad news.

Bex liked her men bad, the badder the better. I just hoped it wouldn’t bite her in the ass.





“I’ll have a shot of tequila, and one for yourself too, sweetheart,” the guy in front of me winked.

I cringed on the inside. “Sure thing,” I replied with a bright smile. One I perfected over the years to hide whatever anxiety I had from social situations.

You’d think someone battling with social anxiety would cringe away from jobs where you actually had to interact with people and be charismatic to earn tips. I would if I could. Not a lot of choice out there for me when I wanted to spend my days taking care of my mom. Night work was synonymous with bar work or stripping. I chose the former. I would have loved to keep my job at Gwen’s store, in Amber, where the patrons were less likely to squeeze my ass and have me on the edge of a panic attack every shift, but I didn’t get to choose. I did what I always did. Sucked it up and got on with it.

I clinked my class with the guy in front of me.

“Cheers to pretty bartenders,” he drawled.

I downed the shot, doing an inner eye roll. I savored the burn, the tingle that it gave me. Jude was watching me out of the corner of her eye. It wasn’t disapproval in her gaze, most of the bartenders were half way to blotto by the end of every shift. It was part of this place’s charm. The waitresses and bartenders were renowned for partying with the patrons, and mostly all of them were young pretty girls. Which was why it was always packed.

“You got a name, sweet thing?”

I smiled at him. I hoped it seemed genuine and not like I was suffering a stroke.

“Lily,” I replied lightly. The tequila was doing its job to help make the exchange easier and maybe even guarantee me some tips.

He leaned forward on his elbows, his eyes roving over me. “What’s your story, Lily?”

I paused. My story? I restrained a bitter laugh. If I told him “my story” I could kiss my tips goodbye. I would tell him how I was raised by a single mom after finally escaping the clutches of an abusive father. How I struggled with not being like anyone else, not being able to shine bright like my mom, and how I was crippled by self-awareness. How I fell in love with a biker after losing my virginity to him. How I watched my mother die slowly before my eyes. Quit college, so I could take care of her and watch while she faded away, while I faded away myself. Admit that now she was gone I was drifting like a ghost, barely feeling corporal, fighting the emptiness with spirits I normally wouldn’t touch. Trying to stay afloat.

I gave him another smile. “Nothing interesting,” I told him on another grin.

Luckily any further conversation was drowned out by more patrons needing their drink orders filled. During the course of the night my mask stayed on, helped by the fact I downed every shot that was brought for me, so everything began to blur around the edges.

“Holy shit on a cracker,” Skye muttered under her breath, her eyes glued on the entrance.

I was focusing on pouring a cocktail, so I didn’t follow her eyes. I should not have had that last shot, I decided. It was trial and error figuring out how much I could take, how much I needed to stop the big sad, but still make me stand upright.

“How about your number, along with that drink?” the man asked me when I pushed the drink toward him.

I was a little shocked. The dude just ordered an Appletini. I’d been certain he was gay—my gaydar was malfunctioning.

My shock gave me pause, and so it gave time for someone else to answer for me.

“You can’t order a decent drink, you definitely can’t handle a decent woman,” a voice declared from behind Appletini dude.

Appletini dude turned around, Skye and I both followed his gaze.

Asher stood there, something ticking in his jaw, his arms crossed, eyes firmly focused on me.