CHAPTER THIRTEEN

 

Fifteen minutes of Hawke and Tex giving Seven hell was about fifteen more minutes than Seven could handle. At least Skull had wandered off to be with his group of drunks.

She popped another piece of fried sweet dough into her mouth. She had no idea what it was, but once she started, she couldn't stop eating it. "You both realize that you're not my keeper, right?"

"Yeah, but then what fun would we have?" Hawke asked and bumped fists with Tex like they were twelve and not the leaders of Mayhem.

"If I was interested in Jax, I don't need your thumbs up."

"You're not." Tex snorted then guzzled down the rest of his beer. "Piss poor match."

Hawke nodded. "They go together like bikes and oil slicks."

"Unfinished chrome and a week in the rain."

"You guys are dicks." Seven pointed her finger at Hawke then Tex. "And not dicks in the cool 'I want to hang out with you and grab a beer' kind of way. The kind where you're giving me a headache and I want to get out of here."

"Fine, go, get outta here. You're a buzzkill, anyway."

If Seven hadn't thought that Hawke would get some satisfaction out of her tossing the bird at him, she would have thrown up both middle fingers. But that would've only made him beam. "I'm calling the night. Try not to bring home anything that will give you scabies."

She turned on her heel and left to the sound of the two drunkards ribbing, their poor match comparisons getting worse and worse.

The last thing Seven wanted to do was go to her hotel room, sit there, and think about Jax and his attitude problem and all the ways he had nailed how she might react to him. It had nothing to do with the fact that he was a Navy SEAL and everything to do with him walking up to her in a bar full of bikers and giving no fucks as he wrapped his arms around her and make her melt.

He had to have known what a dominant act like that would do to her inside, and she hated it. Hated him? Yes, hated him for reading her so well.

The night was unexpectedly cold and quiet. She slowed in front of a swank hotel. Their clientele would cater to anyone but Mayhem and military rogues, and there wasn't a motorcycle in sight. Only a bellman standing outside even at the late hour and a Mercedes awaiting valet service. She mentally willed there to be a menu of drinks inside in which somebody had put considerable thought into. Even if that wasn't the case, this wasn't the kind of place where anyone could toss a beer bottle and let it shatter without security being called.

Seven took a deep breath that was straight out of a meditation chant and changed her path from wherever she was going to straight inside that hotel.

"Good evening, Miss." The bellman graciously opened the door. "Can I help you?"

What was the matter with her life when she smiled merely at manners. "Could you point me to the bar?"

He smiled and nodded with a sweeping directional. "Straight past the registration desk and then make a right. You'll see a grand chandelier before you walk in."

Just what she needed and didn't know—a chandelier. A grand one, at that. "Thank you very much."

"My pleasure."

She glided through the lobby, following his directions. At the sight of the grand chandelier, Seven paused. He wasn't joking. It was maybe the size of an SUV, with glittering, gorgeous crystals that shimmered in pinks and ambers and purples. They stole her breath and instantly relaxed her.

This was precisely how she wanted to end her night, someplace where no one knew who she was and everything seemed soft and beautiful.

Swank music played in the background, a refreshing difference from the dive bar she had been in. Hell, it was a fresh difference from the dive bars she was used to when she spent the night out with Mayhem. Candelabras glittered, and the plush barstools and well-cared-for bartop might have been as old as the one she'd just left, but there was a difference in how the place was maintained. This was where she needed to be to get away from all of that.

The bartender walked over and handed her a menu on a thick cardboard printout that had today's date. It was nothing like she was used to and everything that she was searching for, at least tonight. The drinks had names, and her goal of a liquor concoction that was more of a masterpiece than a drunken old standby awaited her.

"What do you suggest?"

Two people next to her stood up, pulling her attention from the bartender patiently awaiting her order, and there was Jax. He looked over at the same time but didn't hide his dismay, tossing back his head and laughing.

"Seriously," she muttered and went back to her drink order. "What do you suggest?"

"Smoky Aguardiente."

"What's that?"

"Aguardiente, very Colombian. Anise-flavored, but you might call it firewater, and it's mixed with our house specialty of smoked teas and spices."

"Fancy."

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes." Mostly because Seven refused to look over and needed a distraction. She could tell Jax's attention hadn't left her as the gaping hole of barstools between them remained open.

The bartender made her drink and arrived with the tall, skinny glass, waiting for her to try a sip. "Let me know what you think about the smoked teas."

It would take far more than smoked tea analysis to ignore Jax. She held the well-made concoction to her lips and took a small sip. It was everything she had been looking for and completely unfamiliar. "This is amazing."

The bartender tossed a clean rag over his shoulder. "Thrilled you love it."

Seven didn't have to look at Jax to feel him mocking their conversation silently.

They bantered for another few minutes, and the bartender left. Seven sipped her drink and acted far more preoccupied than she was.

"Hey, you over there." Jax's rough voice raked over her better than any specialty drink could. "I thought I was bad attention for the win."

She fought the urge to ignore him and twisted on her barstool, taking great lengths to cross her legs. "Did you think that I came here looking for you?" Seven arched her pierced brow with as much attitude as she could muster. "Ha."

"Didn't you?"

"Not a chance. I came here to hide."

Jax smirked as though he didn't buy that, and it got under her skin.

"If you don't believe me, I'm blissfully unconcerned." She used her hair as a curtain to block his handsome face then gracefully scooted a barstool farther away and slid her drink over.

Cocky jerk. Did Jax think she was going to troll the streets of a strange country, hoping to run into him? She took another sip, thankful when a small group of businessmen took the empty seats between her and Jax.

The bartender approached with a shot in hand, bypassing the new men, and she glanced up, obviously not finished with her drink. "I didn't order that."

"The gentleman at the end of the bar did."

"Jax?" She rolled her eyes. "Handsome, Italian-looking dude? Dark hair? Looks like he wants to kill everybody?"

"Perfect description." The bartender laughed. "Surly beast."

A beast? Ugh. She wasn't close enough to see his face well in the mirrored bar wall, but Jax was watching her. "Tell him no thanks. You can have it. "

"I'm not going to—"

"Then give it to me, and I'll pour it on the floor."

"Can't have that." He took the shot.

"Was it a tasty one, or did he order me something that tasted like death?"

"It was lovely." The bartender winked. "Or I would've let you throw it on the floor."

"What should I send back?"

He laughed. "You two are going to be interesting, aren't you?"

"I don't know yet," Seven said, more to herself than him. "Send him a shot from me. But don't make it look as pretty."

"Would you like him to remember his name after he takes it?"

"Let's not be mean, but a little playful."

"Americans." The bartender chuckled then transitioned into Spanish with the businessmen before making Jax's shot.

Seven watched him offer it to Jax. Jax refused the shot but then took the small glass back from the bartender.

What was he doing?

Jax flung the shot glass down the mahogany bar, past the businessmen, and it came to a slow stop in front of Seven. Her heart jumped, and she would have been lying if she said that wasn't impressive. Seven gave him a slow clap, and he returned with a small nod. Seven picked up the shot, raised the glass, and downed the liquor.

Their bartender tittered. "What are you, a couple in the middle of a fight?"

The businessmen threw down a few bills to pay their tab before getting up from the bar. Empty space stretched between her and Jax again. He stared her way, holding her in place as her heart drummed and her cheeks warmed. All of her rushed with a warmth that made her blood race, and far out of her flirting element, Seven tore her eyes away but could tell he didn't stop looking at her.

Jax pushed off his barstool, and the sparkle of anticipation shivered across her skin. Was he leaving? Coming closer? Her breezy breaths seemed too shallow when he stopped short, allowing one barstool between them as he took a seat.

"Scared?" Because she was terrified. Her reaction to him made her almost light-headed, but she was drawn to him despite that fear.

"Man." Jax's head dropped with a chuckle, then he glanced over. "You don't stop, do you?"

"I should."

"Nah." He moved off the barstool and leaned against her back, resting his arms on the bar. Caging her. "Why screw up a good thing?"

He was a sheet of muscle, and he let his chin rest next to her ear as she watched in the mirrored wall.

"Nothing to say?" His scratchy chin burrowed next to her ear, and the dark-whiskered scruff grated her into heaven. "Seven, how much have you had to drink tonight?"

Suddenly, the tingles were gone. "Not much, why?"

Was he trying to get her drunk? Tacky! That didn't seem like his MO, but what did she know? Maybe he liked to get plastered and…

Jax pulled back and spun her around. "Hang on."

Her level of distrust should've been much higher. "Why?"

"Because I want to make bad decisions with you, and I want to make sure you're in a good place to agree."

"Meaning you don't want me drunk?"

He winked. "Not at all. What do you say?"

Still, she hesitated. "Why is it a bad decision?" Then she blushed as she waited for him to list a Kama Sutra on steroids or a policy of no strings attached means never talking again.

"Because I always know what I'm getting into, and anytime I'm around you, I don't know, and I don't care." Jax backed up and extended his hand.

She couldn't have slapped him if she'd wanted to. She wasn't a one-night stand kind of girl, and Jax had made it clear at the wedding that he was only a one-night stand kind of guy. Chemistry didn't care what either of them said, and Seven placed her hand in his.

"Why's your name Seven?" He helped her off the barstool and threw down some cash for their tabs.

"I was supposed to be lucky."

Jax grinned. "Lucky number Seven. I like it." He took her by the hand and walked them out. "Come on, beautiful. Get into trouble with me tonight."