The Best Kind of Trouble
Page 2

But he rallied. “I know it’s you. Stay and have coffee with me so we can catch up.”
“I have to get to work.” She opened the door, nudging him out of the way a little as she did. The heat of the day greeted her, and she stepped out, covered her eyes with her shades and walked away.
The past was the past. She had a life now. One she’d spent a lot of time and energy building, and she needed to keep the door on who she’d once been firmly closed.
Even if it left a tasty bit like Paddy Hurley on the other side.
* * *
PADDY WATCHED HER retreat down the sidewalk, the hem of her skirt swishing back and forth, exposing the backs of her thighs. Thighs that had been wrapped around his hips more than once.
She had tattoos, matching ones, at the top of each thigh, right under each ass cheek. Pretty red bows like at the top of stockings. He smiled at that memory.
“Her name is Natalie, right?” he asked the barista when she brought him the coffee and pastry.
“Yeah. You know her?”
“She lives here in town?” He sipped his drink. He and his brothers had gone out for an early ride so he was hot and a little sleepy. The iced coffee helped with both.
“Sure. Works at the library. Comes in every morning before work to get coffee. Well, except Monday because the library is closed on Mondays. She’s single. You know, if you were asking because you thought she was pretty.”
He gave the barista a smile. He did indeed think Natalie was pretty. Her hair was short now where it had been long years before. He normally loved a woman with long hair, but on her that pixie thing worked. She had a great neck.
A great everything. She’d kept up with him on every level. They partied hard, f**ked hard, worked hard. He and the band his brothers had formed, Sweet Hollow Ranch, had had a series of gigs at dives all over Portland and Southwest Washington. They’d managed to get two crappy hotel rooms included as part of their pay.
The motel had been right behind a bowling alley and the shithole of a bar attached to it. Natalie had been a waitress there, slinging drinks and dodging overeager hands when he’d met her.
It had been a matter of hours after meeting—the chemistry so instant and thick between them—until they’d stumbled into her studio apartment and into her bed.
She’d been underage, as had he, but they’d spent the next two weeks together around her shifts at the bar and his gigs.
And then he’d gone on the road, and she’d gone off to college. He’d thought of her over the years. One of their songs, “Dive Bar,” had been about her and those two weeks.
Turns out she lived in the same town. Which meant it was fate. He continued to smile after he’d thanked the barista.
Why she’d pretended not to know him was the question. She had her reasons, and he aimed to know them, too. The woman behind the counter said Natalie was single, so it wasn’t a boyfriend.
Paddy hadn’t achieved the success he had because he gave up when things got hard.
He’d simply keep at it.
He leaned back in his chair and watched the street outside as he drank his coffee. A new challenge was always fun. Especially when it concerned a pretty blonde with long legs and a smile that invited a man to sin and not repent.
CHAPTER TWO
“YOU REMEMBER THAT shithole of a bar we hung out in just outside Portland?” Paddy handed a coil of rope to his oldest brother, Ezra.
“Dude, you’ve got to be more specific than that. There are dozens upon dozens of shithole bars I remember. More I don’t.” Ezra snorted as he hung the rope up on a hook just inside the stable door.
Paddy laughed. It had been fifteen years since they’d started out, and that particular shithole bar had been at least a dozen years before. “Back at the beginning. Right before we headed to L.A. and made the first record with the label. The bar was next to a bowling alley. We had two rooms in that rattrap of a motel that was behind it.”
“Ah! Yes, I do remember that one. Damien got his ass jumped by those cowboys who heckled us and waited for him after the show.”
“Then we all jumped in, and you got arrested.”
“Wasn’t the last time.”
“And now you have pigs and dogs, and you only beat on your brothers.”
“I’m too old to beat up anyone but you people. Plus, I have great hands. Why you taking me down memory lane?”
“There was a girl.”
Ezra barked a laugh. “Yeah, well, you’ll have to be more specific with that, too. Even more of them than shithole dive bars.”
“Natalie. Long blond hair. Big blue eyes. Dimples. Juicy mouth. She worked in the bar. We had a thing. Hot, hard, fast, for two weeks before we left for L.A.”
“Hmm, sounds familiar, but, Paddy, you have a thing for blondes. There are stories like that from coast to coast and across Europe. They all run together after a time.”
“I do have a really f**king awesome life.”
Ezra rolled his eyes. “Does this story have a point?”
“She’s here. In town, I mean. This morning after our ride, I went down to get some coffee. She was there. At the counter. Hair is short now, but it exposes her neck.”
Ezra hummed his approval as he put things away.
“She’s a librarian.”
Ezra’s brows rose appreciatively. “Well, now.”
“Right? But she pretended she didn’t remember me.”
Ezra turned and then laughed so hard he had to brace his hands on his knees. “Man, I wish I’d have seen your face when that happened,” Ezra choked out in between fits of laughter. “I love how your ego paints it like she pretended not to know you instead of her just not remembering.”