Home > Tequila Blues (Serrated Brotherhood MC Trilogy #3)

Tequila Blues (Serrated Brotherhood MC Trilogy #3)
Author: Bijou Hunter

One - Dayton

 

 

There aren’t a lot of things in my life that I’ll lose sleep over. My mom? Sure. My dad? He’s lived a good life. My brothers, Camden and Hudson, matter, but it’s not like I spend much time thinking about them one way or another. I give a shit about my club. Having grown up in the Serrated Brotherhood Motorcycle Club, they’re my second family, but they all got their own worries. They ain’t losing sleep over me, and I can’t say I lose much over them either.

The only person in this world that keeps me up at night is Harmony Tequila Slater. She isn’t my girlfriend. We aren’t even friends. More like acquaintances with benefits. I’ve known her for years, seen her grow up from a beautiful teenager to a stunning woman. Her sister, Daisy, recently married my twin brother, Camden. Her other sister is hooked up with my cousin, Bonn. So, I guess, Harmony and I are family now, but that isn’t why I care.

Harmony doesn’t know she’s my woman yet. If I had bigger balls and a smaller ego, we’d have settled shit long ago. She’d be in my bed every night and her three-year-old son would have my blood running through his veins.

But I didn’t do what needed to be done and now I’m losing sleep over her every night.

Tonight, though, when I find her enjoying a drink at the Red Barn Bar, I know the time’s come to do what I should have done years ago.

This is the night when Harmony realizes she’s mine.

 

 

Two - Harmony

 

 

For what feels like forever, I’ve had a crush on a bad man. Dayton Rutgers isn’t misunderstood or simply complicated in a way normal men aren’t. He’s the bad guy.

Dayton drinks too much. Fucks any available woman. Says whatever he wants without worrying about feelings or consequences. He commits acts of violence for his motorcycle club and likely for fun.

Admittedly, he isn’t all bad. I mean, Dayton’s loyal to his family and club. But I know he can’t be with his lovers. Women are disposable to him, yet most don’t care because he’s so damn sexy and, if the rumors are true, talented in bed.

Over the years, I’ve heard the sex part secondhand from his many conquests. Hickory Creek Township is a small place where everyone knows everyone’s business. Especially about the rich and beautiful people like Dayton and his wealthy, powerful family.

Though I’ve long dreamed of trying out Dayton’s sexual talents up close and personal, I’m terrified of falling for a man with no love for anyone these days. Even himself apparently.

Most days, I avoid Dayton. The exceptions are those two nights a month when I clear my head by enjoying a few fruity cocktails at the Red Barn Bar. No one bothers me here, not since Dayton and I made out in a back booth when the booze and lust tempted me to indulge in more than flirting.

Around me tonight, people talk in hushed tones. The low red lighting and bluesy music puts everyone in a relaxed mood. Closing my eyes, I inhale the scent of beer, BO, and way too much perfume.

“I’ll have what she’s having,” Dayton says, suddenly appearing next to me at the bar.

“It’s a mango ginger fizz,” I explain without looking at him. “You continue to surprise me, Dayton.”

Sitting next to me at the bar, he doesn’t change his order even after realizing what it is.

I admire the rich scent of the hot night on his bare skin, only inches from my lips. He’s a delicious man, and I crave his kisses, but they come with a price.

“Whatcha doing here alone?” he asks, leaning forward, so his shoulder-length blond hair frames his handsome face.

“You always ask me that when you find me alone. What did I say last time?”

“Go away, perv,” he says, smirking.

Fighting a grin, I nod. “Oh, yeah, well, before that.”

“Your sisters won’t drink in public.”

Turning to him, I refuse to show him how much he affects me. “Are you planning to whine about your mommy and daddy again? If the answer is yes, keep in mind how I’m not in the mood.”

“Hurts me real deep when you use that tone,” he says, snatching my hand from the bar top. “Have you been crying?”

“Do you really care?”

“Why do you have to be so mean?”

Studying his expression, I pull my hand away and focus on my drink. “My client died.”

Dayton opens his mouth, making me brace for him to say something shitty that’ll inspire me to hate him.

He might sense he’s heading down a bad road because he asks, “I’m sorry. Did she suffer?”

Smiling at how he can say the right thing when he wants, I sip my drink.

“No, she went in her sleep.”

“Is that code for during sex?”

Rolling my eyes, I smile. “That’s the Dayton I know.”

“What happens now?”

“I drink my drink, and we make small talk, and then I leave.”

“I mean with your job now that your client died.”

Taken aback by his ability to give a crap, I don’t answer immediately. Dayton downs his fizz in two gulps and orders a beer.

“The company I work for has found another house for me,” I finally say. “This one is home to three autistic women around my age. I met them yesterday.”

“You like them?”

“Difficult to tell since they have autism and don’t warm up to people off the bat. I hope in a few weeks they’ll trust me and I’ll see more of their personalities.”

“Huh? Your job takes brains,” he says, tapping my forehead. “I thought it only involved cleaning up puke and wiping asses.”

“It does, but not all asses are the same.”

“No, they are not.”

Holding his gaze, I sip my drink until I’ve nearly finished it. “What are you thinking?”

“That you’re too beautiful for me not to have fucked yet.”

“Yeah, I figured it was something romantic like that,” I mutter.

My disinterested tone is completely betrayed by the shiver I feel at him speaking so bluntly of what we’ve only teased at for so long.

“We’re family now,” he says in a low, seductive voice. “Through marriage and all. Seems like we ought to stop dancing around the inevitable.”

“I’m not drunk enough to say yes to that line of thinking.”

“Then I’ll get you another drink, and we’ll see where things go.”

Smiling, I let him buy me another fizz. When he leans forward to plant a soft, wet kiss on my neck, I struggle to keep my panties from dropping to the floor that very second.

His gaze holds mine as we wait for my drink.

“How’s your kid?” he asks.

“Why do you care?”

“Anything connected to you matters to me.”

“Oh, it does.”

Dayton leans forward again. This time his lips don’t find my throat. They instead land squarely on my waiting lips. The noise in the bar fades away, and I’m alone with Dayton’s skillful tongue.

“You taste good,” I murmur once he frees my lips.

“It’s the mango ginger crap.”

I reach for my new drink with one hand and wrap a lock of his hair around the finger of my other.

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