Ride Steady (Chaos, #3)(40)

And when I got there, the party was in full swing. There were a lot of people there, lots of women, other bikers from different clubs (if the patches were anything to go by), and it was what Tabby said it would be. The music was loud. The people were loud. There was making out. Groping. Flirting. Drinking. Shots thrown back. And smoking, including the marijuana variety.

In this mess, although Tab found me right away and got me a drink, Joker hadn’t even looked at me.

Not once.

I looked to the guy behind the bar. I’d just met him and he’d told me his name was Snapper. He was in the Rush/Shy/Joker age group of the Club. Currently, he was acting as one of several bartenders (though they didn’t seem to have an official one, guys went back, girls went back, you wanted it, you got it or you asked whoever was back there to get it for you).

I had my hand around a warm beer and my seat on a stool, my eyes locked to Joker, and Tabby had left to go to the bathroom.

So I was alone.

Again.

Even at a big biker party.

“Sorry?” I asked him, the fact he’d spoken to me belatedly processing through my thoughts.

“Fresh,” he said, tipping his head to my plastic cup that was not even half-drunk. “Toss that warm shit and I’ll get you a cold one.”

“Um…” I couldn’t answer because I couldn’t think.

I could only hurt.

Why did I hurt?

Why did I even come?

Joker, it was now clear, didn’t want me.

Maybe he kissed back whoever kissed him. He was a guy. Guys probably did that. And it was obvious from the used condom wrappers that he had experience. Maybe he was just a good kisser because he’d had a lot of practice.

But I had in no way given him the impression I wanted it to stop.

He’d stopped it. I was taken from my thoughts again when Snapper pulled my cup out of my hand, threw it (and its liquid contents) in a trash bin, and grabbed a fresh plastic cup. Then he went to one of the three kegs behind the bar and pulled me a new one.

He came back and set it in front of me.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, and as I did, I took that opportunity to take him in fully.

He had light blond hair, long and pulled back in a slipshod bun at the back of his head. He had light blue eyes and blond lashes, the both of them together unusual and attractive. He had blond stubble on his cheeks, but I knew he shaved (though, apparently infrequently) since the whiskers at his chin were a lot longer than the rest so I figured when he was feeling in the mood to be neat, he just wore a goatee. He also had nice cheekbones, very white teeth that probably seemed whiter due to his tanned skin, and a straight nose.

“You the one with the kid?” he asked and yet again that dirty washed through me.

I dropped my eyes to my beer, lifting it, and before taking a sip, replied, “Yeah. I’m the official Chaos charity case.”

I put my cup to the bar, still looking at it, but didn’t continue to do this as I had planned, along with feeling sorry for myself and finding a time when I could tell Tabby I had to go (that time being soon), because I felt a fist gentle under my chin, lifting it.

My eyes went to Snapper’s.

“We all fall on hard times,” he said quietly, removing his fist from my chin. “It’s just lucky for you that you fell in the right direction.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” I told him.

“Only way, babe,” he returned immediately. “We are who cares about us.”

I felt my brows draw together. “Sorry?”

“You weren’t worth the trouble, we wouldn’t make it.”

That was so nice the dirty washed out of me and I couldn’t help but smile. “That’s sweet.”

He smiled back. “Maybe. Still true.”

“That’s also sweet.”

He kept smiling and offered, “Want a shot?”

I shook my head. “No. I shouldn’t. I’m driving.”

“You get blotto, I’ll put you on the back of my bike, take you home.”

“I, well… that’s nice, but my son comes home the day after tomorrow and I have a lot to do as well as a shift at work. I probably shouldn’t be hungover.”

“Your call,” he muttered.

“Though I’ve never been on the back of a bike,” I shared and he focused on me.

“No shit?”

I shook my head.

He grinned and he took his time doing it. “Then f*ck that beer. Best high of your life, bein’ on a bike. I’ll take you out.”

My disaster of a night started looking up. “Really?”

“Absolutely.”

I looked toward the pool table and saw in the short time my attention had been diverted, Joker and his brunette had stopped playing and now Rush was playing with some redhead.

Rush’s girl wasn’t in a tube top. She was in a Harley T-shirt and tight jeans, much like me. Minus the Harley tee—mine was a girl-fit Broncos babydoll tee—and also minus the tight jeans. I had on jeans, just not tight, except at the bottom where every pair of pants seemed to be tight these days.

I scanned the room and saw Joker was gone altogether.

So was his brunette.

My heart squeezed.

“Yo!” I heard Snapper call and I looked to him to see he was looking beyond me. I turned around and saw Tabby was heading toward me and Snapper. “I’m takin’ Carissa out on my bike. You wanna look after her purse or put it in Shy’s room or somethin’?”