Easy (2 page)

Daisy heard the unmistakable sound of motorcycle engines as they drifted by her hotel room. She tossed back the fireproof curtain and gazed out into the dusk. The digs might be crap, she thought, but a beer or two could take her mind off it. Plus, she was sucker for anything with two wheels.

She shimmied into a short jean skirt and pink tank top and headed out the door. She followed the Harleys like a siren’s song to a low-slung building with a large parking lot and sign out front that said “Maria’s.” The outlaw country blaring from inside and the bikes in the lot told her this was definitely her kind of place. She paused a moment on the sidewalk as two riders turned off the main drag and into the gravel lot. One was a large guy, decked out in black, with a long, black ponytail. Daisy thought he was hot as hell until she saw his friend.

Blonde, muscled, and tanned, Daisy was pretty sure the hottest guy she’d ever laid eyes on in her life just rode into view. She tried to hustle and catch the door while he was heading inside, but the gravel and her cowboy boots were a bad match. By the time she’d gotten inside herself, the hottie was lost in the crowd. She scowled, disappointed. The place was jumping though and had more leather and studs than poor Daisy’s nether regions might be able to withstand.

She took a deep breath and tried not to think about how long it’d been since she had a bike or a man between her thighs. Right now she wasn’t too picky about either, and if all went well she might get both. She spotted the bar on the other side of the room and headed that way. A platinum blonde failed to notice her as she mixed drinks and then stacked them onto a tray. She skirted out from behind the bar to deliver them to one of the many tables.

“Hey!” called an old man perched on a stool. “What about my beer?” he asked.

“Stuff it, Milo,” the blonde replied, muttering something about being two girls down and some other obscenities having to do with impatience.

The old man gave Daisy a disgruntled look as she took the stool next to him.

“Busy,” Daisy observed, nodding at the crowd.

Milo grunted. “She’s pouring
and
serving,” he said, jerking his head at the blonde. “Should just be pouring. She knows I like a steady supply to wash down the fries.”

He had a huge basket of chili cheese fries in front of him that set Daisy’s stomach rumbling. Lucky for her, the juke box was loud and the crowd even louder.

“You come here a lot?” she asked him. “Is it always busy like this?”

Milo nodded and grabbed his glass. “Always,” he told her. “I’m always here and it’s always like this.” He tipped the glass
, then remembered it was empty, and slammed it back down on the counter.

Daisy glanced around and only spotted one other waitress in the whole bar. She herself had waited tabled from time to time for cash. Delay, Nebraska had a serious lack of employment
opportunities. It was the Silver Spoon or the gas station or the packing plant, and at least you got free meals at the Spoon- such as they were. Working at the packing plant meant you might seriously never eat again after seeing what went into a hot dog.

The blonde looked exhausted and it wasn’t even midnight.

“Damn people,” Milo groused, glancing around furtively. “Come to my place, so’s I can’t get my beer for my fries.”

“Oh, Lord,” Daisy replied, already sick of the conversation. She took the glass, put one knee on the stool, and reached over the bar. She filled it with Bud as the guy watched.

“Adams,” he protested. “Adams!”

Daisy glared at him over her shoulder then slammed the glass down in front of him, froth splashing over the edge.

“Take what I give you, old man.”

At that moment, the blonde came around behind the bar. She gave Milo, then Daisy, the stink eye.

“Sorry,” Daisy said, shrinking a little on her stool. “You’re pretty slammed. I was... I was just... ”

The blonde kept her pinned with a withering look.

“I could take your next tray,” Daisy offered, sensing an opportunity.

The blonde raised an eyebrow.

“I schlep the trays and keep the tips?” Daisy suggested. “You don’t have to pay me extra.”

The older woman looked her up and down. “Got ID?” she finally asked. Daisy produced it. “You ever wait tables, Delilah?” she asked, studying the card.

“It’s Daisy. And yeah, I have.”

“Not that it matters,” said the blonde while handing the license back across the bar. “I’ll take anyone with two arms and pulse. You got yourself a deal.” She stacked more drinks onto the now empty tray and pushed it over. “Goes to that table over there,” she said, jerking her head.

Daisy turned to look, and her stomach gave another kick -but from a different kind of hunger- as she spotted the hot blonde.

“Don’t gawk,” the woman
scolded. “Just serve.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Daisy replied, not taking her eyes off the man.

“It’s not ma’am. It’s Maria. Get moving.”

Daisy took the tray and wove her way through the crowd. She had three beers and three shots. Balancing all of them, she arrived at the table and tried to catch Blondie’s eye.

“Hi!” she gushed at them, setting the drinks onto the table.

The large Sioux nodded politely and took up a shot. The dark haired guy who hadn’t arrived with them gave her quick smile but looked away. Blondie, so far, wasn’t budging. Daisy took the last shot in one hand, the last beer in the other, and leaned across the table. “Here you go, honey,” she drawled, pushing them in front of him. He finally looked up at her. Daisy sucked in a breath. He had gorgeous green eyes.

“Can I get you anything else?” she asked him with a sly smile.

“I’m good,” he told her.

“You’re definitely that,” Daisy replied. The guy with the short, dark hair snorted. Blondie wasn’t interested, though. Daisy picked up the empty tray and hustled back to the bar, disappointed. She didn’t have much time to dwell on it though, because Maria refilled her tray and sent her packing again.

This time she ventured to the other side of the bar’s pool tables, to another table full of hot guys. God, but this place was full of them! They weren’t sporting cuts but still looked appropriately badass. Daisy flashed them a smile and passed out the rounds.

“Nice tats,” one of them said.

Surprised, Daisy’s eyes drifted down the front of her shirt. She looked back up at the guy, who laughed and glanced deliberately at her arms.

“Oh!” she said, giggling. “Right. Thanks.” The guy himself was tatted up as well, one full sleeve on his right arm. “They’re mine,” she told him.

His eyebrow raised. “Did you-?”

Just then a sharp whistle pierced the air, louder than the jukebox. Daisy looked across the bar at her temporary boss, who was getting antsy.

“Sorry,” Daisy told him. “It’s packed. Gotta go!”

As she made her way back to the bar, she passed a brunette who ended up at- wouldn’t you know it- Blondie’s table. She draped an arm over his shoulders and leaned into him.

Well, there you go
, Daisy thought to herself. Disappointing indeed, but the one thing Daisy needed more than a roll in the hay was cold hard cash, and there was a blonde of a different sort across the room who was willing to let her earn some.

Easy took another sip of his beer and still couldn’t find a way out, at least not written on the bottom of the bottle. He couldn’t tell her he’d heard her comments. It was bad enough having to listen to them, to admit that they’d
hurt
him. He didn’t want her to know that the opinions of some chicks he didn’t even know had absolutely gutted him. That was unacceptable.

Brenda was blathering on about some band she wanted to go see next week. Easy was barely listening. He glanced at the door and briefly considered walking out, but
that would only raise eyebrows… and questions.

As he turned back his gaze fell upon the girl who’d brought him his drink. He’d never seen her before, didn’t know Maria had hired anyone new. The girl had a thing for tats and metal, that was for sure. She wasn’t his type, either. Not by a long shot. Maybe, though, that was just what he needed.

Fueled by anger instead of helplessness or even nervousness, he stood up quickly. His beer swayed and threatened to topple before he steadied it with one hand.
He
didn’t sway though, and was god damned determined to make it all the way across the bar without so much as a shuffle.

“Gonna take a piss,” he announced crudely, but crude was better than being a whiny bitch, he thought. He could feel Brenda’s eyes on him as he walked away. She was no doubt wondering why he’d barely looked at her since she’d shown up. It was time to pull the pin on the whole thing, he decided. He headed into the small hallway that led to the bathrooms. He passed up the men’s room and took the three steps to the
ladies’ room at the end of the hall, last stop before the Fire Exit.

He was feeling a few butterflies at this point, probably to be expected, but his cock wasn’t paying much attention. He
pole armed the bathroom door and stepped inside. The tiny blonde waitress was at the sink sweeping her hair back behind her ears. Easy’s eyes traveled the length of her to her firm, round ass, and his dick jerked in approval. For some odd reason, he found himself wondering if her penchant for piercings extended to any other parts of her.

She caught his gaze in the mirror and grinned. “You lost?” she teased.

He didn’t answer; he didn’t know what to say, anyway. Weeks of talking to Brenda hadn’t led anywhere. This wasn’t a relationship, he reminded himself. This was purely mercenary. As his body filled with lust, his mind became surprisingly calm. He’d obviously put too much pressure on himself to find a girl who’d overlook his handicap. All along he should’ve just been looking for girls who didn’t need to know.

He strode up to her and wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her back into him. If she had any doubts about why he was there, surely his hard on pressing into her ass made it clear. With his free hand, he swept her long, blonde hair off her shoulder and pressed his lips to the side of her neck. She giggled and pushed back against him. “Nice to meet you, too,” she said.

Easy’s hands skimmed over her tank top and he cupped her breasts in both hands. The material was thin, so was her bra and her nipples jutted into his palms.

“Oh, God,” she whispered as he pinched them, gently rolling them between his fingers. He bit her neck, just enough to sting, and she arched her back, filling his hands.

“You smell good,” he lied. She smelled like onions and fries, which made sense. She did feel good, though, and he figured that was all that really mattered. And she was into him, which was the other catch. She’d certainly do, he thought to himself and let go of one breast. Slowly he ran his hand back down her stomach, making it clear where he was headed next. If she was going to object, she might as well do it now, so he could give up and find someone else.

He felt her take a deep breath, but the command to stop hadn’t come yet. Ever the gentleman his mother raised, he refrained from shoving his hand straight into her shorts. Instead he cupped her pussy through the denim and started rubbing. She was warm and obviously not inclined to stop him since she was now grinding on his hand. In the mirror he saw that her eyes we
re closed, lips slightly parted and cheeks flushed pink to match her shirt. Easy smiled to himself in the polished glass- like shooting fish in a barrel.

He popped the button on her shorts and ran one finger under the waistband of her cotton panties. They were cheap
, and the elastic was worn. He ignored it and tugged on them. As he pushed her shorts down over her hips, she paused. For a moment, he thought she was finally going to stop him, but instead she said, “Is the door locked?”

“It’s fine,” he replied. Not quite a lie, he figure
d. It was fine as far as
he
was concerned.

He ran his fingers down
her ass, which was as smooth, white, and tattoo free as the day she was born. He pushed his hand between her legs from behind and felt her soft curls. He squeezed and pinched and rubbed her folds, slicking up her entrance with his fingertips with one hand as he unbuttoned his own fly with the other. His cock was pulsing behind his zipper.

She wiggled against his hand while clasping the sides of the cracked porcelain sink with her own. He took a condom out of his pocket and nearly dropped it onto the gritty floor. He was glad she was facing away and couldn’t see how badly his hands were shaking now. He preferred to think it was pure need that had him feeling light-headed and jangly. He wasn’t afraid of a piece of pussy in a dirty
bathroom; that was for sure.

He rolled the condom down his shaft, wincing at the tight feel. It had been a long time since he’d worn one. He moved behind her, spanned one of her bare hips with his hand, and guided his cock to her entrance with the other. Fuck, she was wet, seeping juice onto his fingertips as he parted her. With one thrust of his hips, he buried himself deep.

They both cried out at the same time, he from desperation and she because, well fuck, he realized, she was tight as hell and clamped down around him like a velvet fist. Her cunt fought the sudden invasion despite being well-prepared. He withdrew and shoved in it in, losing control of himself and the situation. He already felt the familiar heaviness in his lower belly, the tingle in his sac.

“Damn,” he half-cursed, half-gasped as he erupted into the latex that separated them. Even before the last of his cum spilled, he staggered back into the wall behind him. There was a sheen of sweat on his palms and his brow as he fought to catch his breath.

The girl looked bewildered and disappointed. He glanced away from her accusing glare. Just then, the door opened and Brenda stood gaping at the two of them, her mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. Easy fought off a wave panic at being caught; after all, this was what he wanted. Except he’d envisioned a lusty barmaid, swooning from post-orgasmic bliss and himself standing tall over her, rock hard cock ready to impale the next willing female, provided of course it wasn’t his now-ex.

Instead Brenda had walked in on a disaster of a quickie that had left him feeling drained but in no way satisfied. She couldn’t know that, though, having just walked in on them, and if he could keep his cool and get the hell out of there, there was a small possibility that she never would.

As he stripped off the condom and tossed it into the garbage, Brenda finally found her voice. “What the hell?!” she shouted.

Easy zipped up his fly and shrugged at her.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

Easy didn’t answer her
, but next to him he heard the waitress curse under her breath. Easy strode past both of them and into the hallway. “Couldn’t wait,” he said and walked away.

“Bitch!” he heard Brenda yell behind him.

“Trust me,” said the blonde. “I had no idea, nor do I care. I don’t need this shit.”

Easy wasn’t entirely sur
e whether she meant the drama, the bad sex, or both. It was probably both. He winced and kept walking. She hadn’t come, he knew that much. He hadn’t been that inept since high school. It was probably best that he hadn’t gone home with Brenda. He didn’t need one more thing for her to hold over his head. He crossed the bar and headed toward his table.

“Hey, goddamn it! I am not done!” came a loud voice carrying over the music. Easy was silently grateful that it was Brenda who was shouting.

He sighed and turned, bracing himself to have a humiliating confrontation with his… ex? Almost ex? God only knew. But when he looked across the room, it wasn’t Easy that Brenda was laying into. He watched, his brief moment of triumph fading. “Fuck,” he muttered to himself.

Clearly, he hadn’t thought this through. Lately he hadn’t been thinking anything through. In the last two years, he’d gone from a careful planner to a straight up asshole who got into fistfights with his friends and kissed their women just to piss them off.

The blonde shook her head, her short hair falling down almost over her eyes. “Look, I really don’t give a shit. I don’t know you. I don’t know
him
.”

“Slut!” Brenda cried and shoved the blonde into the bar. Several patrons skittered out of the way.

“You better back up,” the barmaid warned. She didn’t look scared, merely irritated.

A hulking shape appeared beside Easy, but he kept watching the two women.

“What’d you do?” Hawk asked him quietly.

Easy pinched the bridge of his nose. “The blonde.”

Hawk snorted and raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?” But his amusement faded as he looked at the feuding women. “How far you gonna let this ride?” he asked. There was an edge of rebuke in his voice.

Easy sighed. “It’s my mess,” he replied. “I’ll clean it up.” As he took a step forward, Brenda also took a step forward and brought up her fist. “God damn it,” Easy muttered and surged through the crowd.

Brenda had a good arm, a little slow though. It was too slow for the blonde, who snatched an empty tray off the counter and held it up. Brenda’s fist connected with it, and by the looks of it the corkboard didn’t do much to soften the blow.

Brenda squealed and grabbed her hand. The blonde gripped the tray and started to bring it up, ready to swing it at Brenda’s head.

“Jesus,” Easy said, surprised. He was close enough now to intervene and he placed his hand on the tray, pushing the barmaid back slightly. With the other hand, he grabbed Brenda’s arm. “Move,” he ordered.

Brenda protested, wailing like a banshee. Easy shuffled her toward the exit.

“Come on,” he said and pushed her through the door. Her roommates followed like sheep.

Brenda turned on him, her hand all but forgotten now. “Why would you do that?” she demanded.

Easy shrugged. In the end, there would be no point in telling her the truth. He’d never take her back, even if she apologized, which she might not. Then he’d just embarrass himself.

“She was there,” he replied smoothly, herding her toward her car. “She was into me and she’s got a great ass. Who could resist?”

Brenda’s mouth opened again. “You’re an asshole! You know that?”

Easy smirked at her. “You can’t say you didn’t know.”

In the year Easy had lived in Rapid City, he’d made a name for himself charming the pants off every pretty girl within a thirty mile radius, or so the stories went. What people saw was an attractive, confident guy who hit on a lot of women. It wasn’t his fault that everyone just assumed he took them home. Brenda might have almost been his first since losing his leg, but she sure as shit didn’t
know
that. Neither did anyone else.

“Go home,” he told her. “Maybe I’ll call you if I get an itch.”

“You bastard!” she shouted at his back.

He couldn’t argue with that. She had a point.