Slow Burns (Blacksteel Bandits Motorcycle Club Book 1) Read Online Free Page A
Author: Evelyn Glass
coiled around them while the rest of the patrons sounded muffled beyond.
Miranda shifted from foot to foot, peanuts snapping under her heel. Manners demanded she say something. Yet, part of her wanted to remain silent. The less the two of them talked, the better. Miranda couldn't help herself, though. “Um, what do you do, now?”
“I work at a junkyard and a garage.” Tyler shrugged, trying not to think about what actually happened at both places of work. This time, he couldn't meet her eye. His gaze flicked around the bar. Jack and Naomi had fully disappeared into the crowd. Or, perhaps, they sneaked out the back for a quick rendezvous.
“Wow, two jobs?” Miranda raised her eyebrows as she listed her head toward Tyler. Years ago, Tyler struggled to even land one job in Legacy. Everyone knew his reputation and very few put up with him. The few people he did work under always seemed to have excellent reviews. Well, until Tyler stopped going to work.
Tyler resisted the urge to hang his head. The auto shop and the junkyard worked in tandem and he doubted Miranda would like to hear the shadowy side of their business. Instead, Tyler muttered, “They're owned by the same guy, so they're more like one job.”
Silence fell again. Someone stumbled by them, braying like a donkey. Somewhere in the busy bar, a glass shattered and someone screamed. Miranda gave in and looked at Tyler. His profile in the dusty light of the bar reawakened short snippets of memory. Her gaze flicked to the leather vest he wore, a question toddling into her head, “So, who are the Blacksteel Bandits?”
“We're a motorcycle club,” Tyler answered, mechanically. He glanced down at Miranda, forcing himself to meet her eye. He had nothing to hide. After all, clubs weren't illegal. Something in him shirked away from telling her a half-truth.
Miranda's curiosity sparked and, just slightly, an intrigued smile curled at her lips, “Motorcycle club? What do you do?”
Tyler averted his gaze. He didn't want to think about Pete or Pete's businesses. This was a little getaway to distance himself. Instead of answering, Tyler flashed Miranda one of his heart-melting grins. Her cheeks instantly pinked. A swell of delight and smugness rippled through him. “Enough about me, Mir. What about you? How've you been?”
“Good,” she answered, suddenly feeling extremely boring compared to him. Then again, Tyler always seemed to live a life of adventure. She always envied him for that fact. “You know about the bank. I have my own apartment and, uh, a great car.”
Nosiness got the better of Tyler. “Got a boyfriend?”
“No,” Miranda's face flared with a blush. “Not that I haven't dated since you, you know. Men are just assholes.”
“Yes, we are,” Tyler laughed. A pang of guilt cleaved through him, but he brushed it aside. Hadn't Miranda just gotten out of a relationship with someone? The tension in the air was becoming palatable and heavy. If he didn't do something soon, their little reunion would end with a fizzle. He didn't want that. His hand shot out, curling around Miranda's wrist before he made a beeline for the back.
“Tyler! What are you doing?” Miranda gasped as Tyler tugged her along. She pulled against his hold, but only halfheartedly. She wanted to follow him out of the bar, away from prying eyes and loose lips. At the same time, Miranda knew how all of this was going to end. Her heart knotted in delight, but under it all was a thread of sadness.
He maneuvered his way through the crowd, not turning nor answering Miranda. Her farce was one Tyler knew by heart. She put up a weak fight – since that much was expected of her – when, deep down, she wanted to follow him, wanted whatever he offered. His fingers gently squeezed her wrist with affection.
Heat crawled over Miranda's body as they stepped into the night. She blinked, forcing her eyes to adjust to the change in
Miranda shifted from foot to foot, peanuts snapping under her heel. Manners demanded she say something. Yet, part of her wanted to remain silent. The less the two of them talked, the better. Miranda couldn't help herself, though. “Um, what do you do, now?”
“I work at a junkyard and a garage.” Tyler shrugged, trying not to think about what actually happened at both places of work. This time, he couldn't meet her eye. His gaze flicked around the bar. Jack and Naomi had fully disappeared into the crowd. Or, perhaps, they sneaked out the back for a quick rendezvous.
“Wow, two jobs?” Miranda raised her eyebrows as she listed her head toward Tyler. Years ago, Tyler struggled to even land one job in Legacy. Everyone knew his reputation and very few put up with him. The few people he did work under always seemed to have excellent reviews. Well, until Tyler stopped going to work.
Tyler resisted the urge to hang his head. The auto shop and the junkyard worked in tandem and he doubted Miranda would like to hear the shadowy side of their business. Instead, Tyler muttered, “They're owned by the same guy, so they're more like one job.”
Silence fell again. Someone stumbled by them, braying like a donkey. Somewhere in the busy bar, a glass shattered and someone screamed. Miranda gave in and looked at Tyler. His profile in the dusty light of the bar reawakened short snippets of memory. Her gaze flicked to the leather vest he wore, a question toddling into her head, “So, who are the Blacksteel Bandits?”
“We're a motorcycle club,” Tyler answered, mechanically. He glanced down at Miranda, forcing himself to meet her eye. He had nothing to hide. After all, clubs weren't illegal. Something in him shirked away from telling her a half-truth.
Miranda's curiosity sparked and, just slightly, an intrigued smile curled at her lips, “Motorcycle club? What do you do?”
Tyler averted his gaze. He didn't want to think about Pete or Pete's businesses. This was a little getaway to distance himself. Instead of answering, Tyler flashed Miranda one of his heart-melting grins. Her cheeks instantly pinked. A swell of delight and smugness rippled through him. “Enough about me, Mir. What about you? How've you been?”
“Good,” she answered, suddenly feeling extremely boring compared to him. Then again, Tyler always seemed to live a life of adventure. She always envied him for that fact. “You know about the bank. I have my own apartment and, uh, a great car.”
Nosiness got the better of Tyler. “Got a boyfriend?”
“No,” Miranda's face flared with a blush. “Not that I haven't dated since you, you know. Men are just assholes.”
“Yes, we are,” Tyler laughed. A pang of guilt cleaved through him, but he brushed it aside. Hadn't Miranda just gotten out of a relationship with someone? The tension in the air was becoming palatable and heavy. If he didn't do something soon, their little reunion would end with a fizzle. He didn't want that. His hand shot out, curling around Miranda's wrist before he made a beeline for the back.
“Tyler! What are you doing?” Miranda gasped as Tyler tugged her along. She pulled against his hold, but only halfheartedly. She wanted to follow him out of the bar, away from prying eyes and loose lips. At the same time, Miranda knew how all of this was going to end. Her heart knotted in delight, but under it all was a thread of sadness.
He maneuvered his way through the crowd, not turning nor answering Miranda. Her farce was one Tyler knew by heart. She put up a weak fight – since that much was expected of her – when, deep down, she wanted to follow him, wanted whatever he offered. His fingers gently squeezed her wrist with affection.
Heat crawled over Miranda's body as they stepped into the night. She blinked, forcing her eyes to adjust to the change in
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