Her Older Biker - Page 3

“He just likes you,” she says. “That’s interesting.”

My face heats. “I’m sure he’s just being nice.”

Caroline smiles knowingly. “Of course.”

For the rest of my shift, I feel Warden’s eyes on me, and every time I look over at him, he gives me a brisk nod.

At closing time, my feet ache and my back is sore, but my apron bulges with tips and for the first time in weeks, I feel at least a little bit optimistic. Another day or so of this and maybe I can get into a motel room again. Until then, I’ll figure it out. I always do. But for now, the thrill of hard work and decent tips makes the aches and pains fade a bit. Maybe I’m not as screwed as I thought I was.

Something tingles in my chest, and I rub absently at the feeling, until I realize what it is.

It’s hope.

Chapter 2

Warden

“Night, Emma,” my mother calls out as our curvy new server heads toward the door. She holds her purse close to her chest, protecting the pile of cash tips she received tonight.

Emma turns back to her mother and flashes her a hesitant smile. “Night, Caroline. See you tomorrow?”

Mom nods. “Five o’clock. Now go get some rest.”

The door clicks shut behind Emma and I turn to face my mother.

“Where’d you find that one?” I ask. I try to keep my voice neutral, but really, I’m fighting the urge to sprint out behind her and walk her to her car.

Mom shrugs as she zips the deposit bag closed and walks out from around the bar, toward the office. “Just walked in. Looked like she needed some help, so I decided to give her a try. She did fine.”

I take a deep, steadying breath, willing my cock to finally relax after hours of hungrily watching Emma hustle all over my bar. She’s young. Too young, maybe. But she’s a fuckingknockout. The second she walked up to my table, I couldn’t look away. Thick curves displayed to perfection by her tight jeans and a low-cut shirt that showed off her creamy tits. My mouth watered just remembering them.

“All right,” Mom says with a yawn as she emerged from the office. “I’m outta here. See you tomorrow.”

“Right behind you,” I say. I flip the lights off and emerge into the chilly night, waving my mother off as she climbs into her little car and drives away. I walk to the side of the building, to the stairs along the side that lead up to my apartment above the bar.

In the corner of the lot, I see some movement. There’s a tiny car—a shitty little beater—parked in the corner, as far away from the building as possible, and someone’s inside.

Better not be a couple of drunks having sex, I think crossly as I stomp over to the car to wave them off. I still can’t make out the occupant—or occupants as I get closer. Whoever it is squirms restlessly under a dark blanket. I bend down and knock briskly on the window. From inside the car, I hear a feminine shriek and the blanket falls away. When I see who it is, I nearly stumble back in shock.

It’s Emma. Her eyes widen with surprise when she sees me. She rolls the window down and stares at me, wide-eyed with a forced smile.

“Hi, Warden,” she says. She pushes her mussed hair away from her face.

“What’s this?” I ask. I brace myself against the door with a hand and lean in closer. “Are you sleeping in your car?”

I can see an assortment of personal items, stacked in the backseat. A few bags, some books—not much. Way less than most people her age own.

She looks away—in embarrassment, I realize, and nods. Her obvious pain and the reality of her situation claw at me, and I make a quick decision.

“Grab your stuff,” I say. “You’re coming with me.”

She frowns. “I’m sorry?”

I pull the car handle and the door swings open easily. “This was unlocked? Emma, that’s not safe at all.”

“The lock doesn’t work,” she says peevishly. “Can you just go and let me get some sleep? I’m tired.”

“No.” I extend a hand toward her. “Like I said, grab your stuff. I have a perfectly good guest room and that’s where you’ll stay.”