Smokey's Distraction: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 15)

by Chiah Wilder

  The club woman’s smiling face crumbled to one filled with hurt, and his anger fizzled at that moment. Smokey reached out and ran the back of his fingers against her cheek, and she looked up at him, her eyes brimming.

  “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to ask you all those questions. I overstepped the line,” Tania said, a weak smile tugging the corners of her mouth.

  Smokey’s hand dropped to his side, and he blew out a long breath between tight lips. “Don’t mind me.” He gestured the prospect to bring Tania a drink, then he winked at her and turned away.

  “So what does this chick look like?” Bones asked.

  “Like a professional, but you don’t have a fuckin’ clue what that is.” Smokey picked up his leather jacket and shrugged it on.

  “Let’s google it,” Helm said.

  “Yeah, why don’t you go ahead and do that. I’m outta here.” Smokey clutched the car keys in his fist. He walked out of the clubhouse and through the icy parking lot to his SUV. Pressing the fob to unlock the driver’s door, he slid inside and started the engine.

  On the ride to the restaurant, Smokey tried unsuccessfully to keep his mind off Ashley. He’d been looking forward to this dinner far more than he’d like to admit. He’d even left work an hour earlier to go to the mall—the fuckin’ mall—to buy a dress shirt. Is that fucked or what? This isn’t a date, and if I want a nice fuck, I know Tania will give me a real good time. So why the hell am I making this into something special? Smokey slammed his hand against the steering wheel. This is bullshit! I’m done thinking with my cock. His jaw tightened with determination.

  Scattered snowflakes peppered the windshield, so he switched on the wipers, then maneuvered the SUV through traffic and headed to the restaurant.

  The smell of warm bread and sizzling steaks enveloped Smokey as he walked into the eatery. The dark wood benches housed people waiting for a table, but Ashley wasn’t among them. Maybe she’s already seated. Crossing the lobby, he stopped short at the podium.

  “May I help you, sir?” the hostess asked.

  Out of habit, Smokey ran his gaze over her, appreciating her nice figure and heart-shaped face.

  “I’ve got a reservation under the name Smokey,” he replied.

  The young woman tapped the computer screen, then looked up and smiled. “It’s for a table of two.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Would you like to be seated now or wait until the other member of your party arrives?”

  She’s late—seems to be her habit. Before Smokey could answer the hostess, the front door opened and a blast of frigid air swept in. Looking toward the door, he saw Ashley with hair windblown and cheeks red from the cold. Smiling, she waved a black-gloved hand at him as she wiped her boots on the indoor mat at the entrance. The thin silver nose ring glinted under the vestibule’s pendant lights, complementing the shimmer in those beguiling blue eyes.

  Heat stirred within him as his gaze devoured the sight of her curvy hips and round ample breasts. Ashley shifted in place, and his eyes snapped back up to her face, taking in a cute button nose, thick lashes, and the growing frown between dark brows.

  “Are you just going to stand there gaping?” Exasperation laced her voice.

  Shrugging his shoulders, he said, “I like looking at pretty things.”

  With a huff, she shoved her hands in her coat pockets and marched past him.

  The grin on Smokey’s face grew as he watched Ashley approach the hostess stand, enjoying the sway of her rounded hips in the fitted burgundy coat, the swish of her silky black hair grazing the middle of her back, and the feminine shape of her long legs.

  “I need a table, please,” Ashley said to the hostess.

  “Do you have a reservation?” the woman asked.

  “I’m not sure.” She turned to look at him.

  Smokey walked over and stood close beside her. The sensual fragrance of patchouli and lavender filled his nostrils, and Ashley’s soft body next to his played havoc with his senses, making his cock stir.

  “Did you make a reservation?” she whispered, her breath touching his face.

  “Yeah,” he replied as he lowered his head.

  Their lips were no more than a whisper away from each other.

  “I’ll show you to your table,” the hostess’s voice dragged him back to the moment.

  Smokey jerked his head up and stepped away from a flushed Ashley. He motioned her to follow the hostess and noticed a slight scowl falling across her face. Averting his eyes from hers, he followed the young maître d’ into the dining area.

  The warmth from the fire crackling in the wood-burning fireplace filled the room. Linen tablecloths and napkins, rich burgundy leather booths, cherry hardwood floors, lavish Karastan rugs, and soft jazz playing in the background created an elegant ambiance.

  “Here you go,” the hostess said as she placed the menus down on a table by a large window. A shimmering candle encased in crystal sat in the middle as a centerpiece. “Someone will be by shortly to take your drink orders.” The brunette turned away and headed back to the front of the restaurant.

  Smokey pulled out Ashley’s chair and said in a low voice, “You look real good in that dress.” He pushed in her seat, then slid into his across from her.

  “Thank you,” she said, and then averted her eyes to the window. “The view is beautiful. Living in Denver, the high mountains are always in the background, but here, those jagged peaks are everywhere. It’s breathtaking and very different to see it up close.”

  “Is this your first time to a mountain town?”

  Turing away from the window, she looked at him and said, “Yes.” She traced her finger around the rim of the water glass, the movement languid.

  One corner of his mouth tugged up as he imagined her circling the tip of his cock like that. And to make matters worse, the candlelight flickering on the table cast a warm glow on her skin and made her blue eyes sparkle.

  “Would you like anything to drink?” The waiter’s voice broke the spell, and both Smokey and Ashley shifted their gazes to him.

  “I’ll have a glass of pinot grigio,” she said.

  “A shot of Jack Daniel’s and a Superpower on draft,” he said.

  The waiter smiled. “A good choice, sir. Did you want to order any appetizers?”

  Ashley looked down. “I haven’t looked at the menu yet.” She cut her gaze to Smokey. “Do you want to order something?”

  “Give us a minute, okay?” he said to the waiter.

  “Sure, no rush. I’ll be right back with your drinks,” he said before walking away.

  “I tried Superpower last October at the Great American Beer Festival in Denver. It’s good. Have you ever been to that festival?”

  Smokey nodded, then reached for a slice of hot bread the busser had just put down on the table. “Been there a few times with some of my buddies. I was there last October, too, with Zach.”

  Ashley smiled. “Zach loves beer.”

  “Yeah.” Smokey laughed. “He got so damn shit-faced. Lori didn’t think it was too funny when I dragged his drunken ass home.” A grin rolled across his face. “Good times.”

  “Do you get to Denver often?” she asked.

  Shaking his head, he slathered butter on his bread and took a bite. “Not that much. I go to bike rallies sometimes. I lived there for a short time when I was a teen.” Memories of panhandling and huddling in doorways on cold nights pricked his brain.

  “Here you go,” the waiter said as he placed a glass of white wine in front of Ashley and a shot of whiskey and glass of beer in front of Smokey.

  Relieved that the server came before more snippets from the past crept out of the dark corners of his mind, he picked up the whiskey and threw it back. “Damn, that’s good,” he said as he gave the waiter the empty shot glass. “Does calamari with hot cherry peppers sound good?” he asked Ashley.

  Shrugging, she replied, “Whatever you want.”

  He glanced up at the waiter. “We’ll go w
ith that.” The waiter nodded then hurried away, and Smokey shifted his gaze back to Ashley. “So you like spicy things?” he asked.

  “I like spicy food,” she answered, picking up her wineglass.

  He watched as she brought the glass to her mouth, then pressed her lips against the rim and took a sip. Damn, that’s sexy. The thought startled him. In all the years he’d been around women, he’d never noticed the way they drank, let alone if it was sexy or not. But at that moment, the way Ashley was sipping her wine struck him as the most sensual thing he’d ever seen.

  “What’s on your mind?” she asked, setting the glass down on the linen tablecloth. “You look like you’re trying to figure out some complicated problem.” A ghost of a smile crossed her glistening lips.

  Smokey moved his jaw from side to side as his brow furrowed. A big part of him was angry that this woman was having an effect on him. Yeah, he wanted to fuck her—she was pretty, sassy, and had great legs and tits. Hell, most men would be lining up to get between those long, toned gams, but there was something beyond that he couldn’t put his finger on, and that something was pissing him off.

  A giggle slipped from Ashley’s lips, pulling him from his thoughts, and he focused on her.

  “You’re still doing it. What’s going on inside there?” Smiling, she tapped the top of her head.

  “Just thinking about an upcoming project.” Smokey picked up his pint and took a long pull. “So how long have you worked for Zach?” he asked as he set the beer down on the table.

  “Around four years. How long have you been doing construction?” Ashley broke off a piece of bread and nibbled at it, licking the crumbs from the corners of her mouth.

  For a long second, Smokey sat still and watched the tip of her tongue until he sucked in a breath and glanced away. “A while,” he replied. “Were you born in Denver?”

  Nodding, she replied, “I’m a native.” After unfolding her napkin and placing it across her lap, Ashley looked up. “Zach told me you guys grew up together.”

  She keeps bringing the conversation back to me. “Yeah. You got family in Denver?”

  “Yes, and what about you? Is your family still in Pinewood Springs?”

  “Why don’t you want to talk about yourself?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” she replied.

  “Yeah, you do. You answer my question with one about me.” He pinned her with a look. “Why is that? Do you have something to hide?”

  Folding her hands on the table, Ashley pressed her lips together, then said, “My mom, brother, sister, and dad all live in Denver. Satisfied?”

  “Calamari with hot peppers.” The server placed the platter in the middle of the table. “Would you like to order your entrée?”

  Ashley nodded and opened her menu. “I’ll have the filet mignon—medium—and grilled asparagus.”

  “And for you, sir?”

  “New York strip—medium rare—loaded baked potato, and roasted wild mushrooms.” Smokey handed his menu to the waiter.

  “I may have to steal some of the mushrooms from you,” Ashley said as the waiter left the table.

  “I was planning on you helping me with them,” Smokey said as he placed a portion of calamari on a small plate and handed it to her.

  “Thanks.” Ashley picked up her fork. “Maybe we should talk about the marketing campaign.”

  “We got time,” he said before popping a pepper into his mouth. “I like to eat first, then discuss business.”

  “I’m just saying that there’s a lot to go over, and I didn’t want to stay out too long.”

  “Why the hell not? I’m not gonna fire you if you come in a little late in the morning.” He laughed.

  Smokey expected Ashley to smile and say something smart-assed, but instead, she became flustered—more than flustered. The enhanced color in her cheeks and the way she played with the hoop dangling from her left ear gave her away. Her skin had taken on an almost iridescent sheen, and he wanted to reach out a hand and run his fingertips over it.

  Ashley’s body’s betraying her.

  She could act like this was a business meeting all she liked. She could pretend Blue’s Belly never happened or that she had no interest in him, but what Ashley couldn’t do was hide her response to him.

  Then a scowl embedded deep into her face.

  “I don’t want any special favors from you, and I don’t want to be treated any differently than anyone else at work,” she said.

  “Everyone who’s worked for me has come in late at one time or another. Tomorrow can be your turn”—Smokey cocked his head to one side—“but you’ve already come in late, haven’t you? Your first day, right?” Satisfaction coursed through him when he saw the red on her cheeks deepen.

  Ashley lifted her chin in defiance. “I was late because I couldn’t get the garage door open, and it took forever to get a Lyft in this town.”

  “You don’t have to get so bent out of shape.”

  “And this is not a date, so stop acting like it is.” She leaned against the back of the chair and folded her arms across her chest.

  Smokey speared a couple of calamari with his fork, put them in his mouth, and chewed slowly. He could feel the anger radiating off her as he met her gaze. “All I said was that you could come in later in the morning, and I get this?” One corner of his mouth hitched up in a smirk.

  “You’re impossible. We should’ve met at the office like normal people do.”

  A deep laugh rumbled in his chest. “Fuck that—I’ve never been normal.”

  She gave him a pointed look as he finished up the appetizer, then she shook her head. “I just want to make it very clear that we work together and nothing more.”

  Propping his elbows on the table, he leaned forward. “That’s good with me. I don’t mess with the help anyway.” A vein in her temple throbbed. “How’d you like the calamari?”

  “It was good,” she said curtly.

  “So what do you have in mind for taking my business to the next level?” He picked up his beer and drained the last bit in the glass.

  “I’ve come up with several ideas,” she answered and leaned over as if to pick something up. Ashley’s eyes widened, and it looked like she’d lost the color in her face.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Straightening up, she rubbed the side of her neck. “I could’ve sworn I brought in my briefcase.”

  “I didn’t see it when you came into the restaurant,” he said.

  “I must’ve left it in the car. How could I have done that?” She pursed her lips.

  “Relax—it’s no big deal. I forget shit all the time.” Smokey pushed his chair back, then rose to his feet. He stretched out his hand. “Gimme your car keys, and I’ll get it for you.”

  Ashley’s head flinched back slightly. “I can get it—you don’t know my car.”

  “Yeah, I do. I walked you to it last Saturday night.” He kept his hand opened.

  She glanced out the window and then back at him. “Okay, I’m parked at the far end of the third row.” She opened up her purse, took out the key fob, and handed it to him. “It’s on the floor behind the driver’s seat. Thanks.”

  Smokey nodded, then headed toward the front of the restaurant. He didn’t want to talk business, but Ashley was right, they weren’t out on a date. He had to stop acting like a pussy and stop thinking about her in that way.

  It was a dark, moonless night. The chilly wind tugged at his jacket and whipped loose strands of hair about his face. Trees lined one side of the parking lot, their branches dusted in white. In the distance, everything was dim and indistinct: shadowy outlines of mountain peaks, splashes of yellow from the vague cluster of buildings, and strings of streetlights blinking from green to red.

  With hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket, Smokey made his way toward the Buick, the hard-packed snow crunching under his boots. He squinted and stopped for a moment. The white glow from a light in the parking lot shone down on a figure w
ho seemed to be standing by Ashley’s car. The person was tall and wore a hoodie pulled down low, but any other details were impossible to discern in the darkness.

  Smokey’s stomach clenched tight and that sixth sense so prevalent in him went into high alert. Something wasn’t right. He picked up his pace, and the figure turned toward him then started running. Smokey bolted after him, but the person had a head start and soon disappeared into the blackness.

  “Fuck.” Smokey hissed under his breath as he stood in the middle of the street, straining to see past the bushes and trees. “Where the fuck did you go?”

  After several minutes, he slowly walked back to Ashley’s car. Why the hell was that asshole by her car? He turned his phone’s flashlight on but nothing seemed amiss; then he dropped to his knees and bent down to look under the vehicle while he shined some light on the undercarriage. After scrutinizing the area thoroughly, he stood up and wiped the snow off his pants, then unlocked the doors, grabbed Ashley’s briefcase, and hit the locks again. Reluctantly, Smokey headed back to the restaurant with the occasional glance over his shoulder to scan the lot.

  When he got back to the table, their dinner was already there. He handed Ashley the briefcase and sat down.

  “Did you have trouble finding my car?” she asked before picking up her knife and fork.

  “No. Uh, do you know anyone in town?” he asked.

  “Not really. I mean … I know you and the people at work. Why?” She chewed on a morsel of steak.

  “I was just wondering. Did you meet anyone at Blue’s Belly?” He cut into the strip steak.

  Ashley scrunched up her face for a split second, then shook her head. “No. I guess I talked to a few people, but I didn’t give anyone my name, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I mean.”

  “Wait, I did give the bartender, Whitney, my name. She gave me her card, and we talked about maybe getting together for lunch sometime.”

  “Whitney’s cool. So, no dudes bothered you?”

  “Just one,” she said, her gaze fixed on him. A slight smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

  “Smartass,” he mumbled.

  “What?”