AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I just pray I’m not getting my hopes up for nothing, that Riot really will call.
Chapter Three
Riot
She’s late.
I look down at the wristwatch for the umptieth time and realize with annoyance that it’s only been three minutes since I last checked.
Maybe she changed her mind and decided not to show up after all.
No way. When I texted her the time and location this afternoon, she seemed on board with the idea of meeting up with me. There is a huge chance that she changed her mind when she learned of our meeting spot, though.
I should have reconsidered my plans to meet up at this bar, but it’s owned by the club, and I’m comfortable here. The place is not all that bad for a first date with its flickering neon lights and lively atmosphere. It might be a biker bar, but it’s for that reason that it’s one of the safest places I could meet Sasha. I imagine it will be a bit of a shock for my shy little angel, but that is what I am aiming for.
With Sasha, I want to stand out to her. Make sure that every moment I spend with her is memorable to the shy girl.
A loud crash breaks through my thoughts, and I turn around to watch as a waitress hurries to wipe down the alcohol spilled on one of the tables. My lips stretch in a slow grin when I realize my angel is at the center of the commotion. She must’ve bumped into the table and spilled their drinks with the way she’s apologizing to the men seated around the table.
I take in her outfit for the night and almost swallow my tongue when my eyes settle on the stunning red dress. It hugs her body perfectly, revealing all the curves that ugly suit from earlier hid. Her hair is styled in loose waves, cascading down her shoulders like a waterfall of silk, and . . . I forget myself.
She looks like a completely different person in her new ensemble, but hell, she’d look beautiful in rags. Sasha would be a vision in whatever she wears, but tonight . . . she’s a goddamned dream.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” a rough voice draws my attention back to the commotion. The deer in the headlights look on Sasha’s face has me pushing away from my table and approaching her. I step up behind the distraught girl and lean down to whisper in her ear, “You’re late.”
She jumps forward, bumping the table again and sending the remaining drinks spilling. I grab her arm and draw her away from the table before turning back to the fuming patrons.
“Apologies, fellas, my girl is a bit of a klutz,” I tell the men glaring at the girl hiding behind me. “How about I cover your tab for tonight to make it up to you guys?”
The men seem to appraise me, but when their eyes settle on the club patch on my jacket, they quickly nod in agreement. Well, it’s not like they have much choice. Not only are they on club territory, I could take all three of them without breaking a sweat if it came to that, and they’re sober enough to realize it.
With that little issue settled, I turn around to face my shaken angel, and I can tell just how out of sorts she feels in this place, and for the first time, I consider taking her somewhere else. My aim was to give her a new experience, not traumatize her.
“Hey, are you okay?”
Her beautiful eyes lift to mine, and that alone is enough to send my heart hammering in my chest. “I’m fine,” she whispers. “I . . . I need to sit.”
“We can leave if you want.”
“And go where?”
Is that a challenge I read in her eyes? “Someplace quieter. There is a bistro down the street, it should be quieter than here.
I could be wrong, but I think I read disappointment in her eyes, which makes no sense to me.
“This place is fine,” she says instead.
“Okay.”
I guide her back to my table and call over the waitress. Sasha asks me to order a drink for her, and I request a cocktail for her and fresh whiskey for me, which arrives only a few moments later. I wait for her to take a sip of her beverage, and her eyes light up in surprise.
“Do you like it?” I say, my tone teasing.
“It’s delicious, what is it?”
“A Shirley Temple,” I tell her. “It’s a non-alcoholic drink.”
Her eyes lock on mine in surprise over the rim of the glass. “But we’re in a bar, and I . . . I’m twenty-one.”
