Free Mate by the Music by Rebecca Royce

 
     
    Mate by the Music
     
     
    Scott Quaid pushed his bike hard through the night. The hard rain and wind slammed into his helmet visor with a splattering sound that might have bothered a man on less of a mission than the one he found himself on. He’d taken a foolish risk riding on a damp night. If he couldn’t fuck, he rode, which meant he’d been riding his bike a lot more than driving his car lately.
    Oil coated the road. Since the desert got so little rain, when the moisture did fall, the pavement was particularly sleek. He couldn’t let his current aggression get himself or anyone else killed.
    Even knowing all of that, he barreled into Gunther’s Bar like the devil himself chased him on two wheels. After quickly unhooking his helmet, he yanked it from his head, shaking the sweat off his hair. Someone inside that bar knew what happened to Stark, and they’d better tell him where his baby brother had gone or they’d live to regret not speaking.
    He shot up the steps leading to the bar and slammed the wooden door open, welcoming anyone to object to his actions. A good fight might make him feel better. Well, a good fight or a good fuck.
    However, Gunther’s didn’t present much of a threat, seeing as it had no patrons inside. Not one person sat in any of the booths, none lined the bar casually sipping a beer, nobody danced under the small disco ball. He blinked and glanced at his watch. Eight o’clock on a Thursday and Gunther’s was deserted? What the hell ?
    Music from across the room caught his attention. Two steps further inside and his mouth dried completely. A lone woman stood behind the bar. He’d missed her when he’d entered because of her height. If he had to guess, he’d say she barely made it over five feet tall, just high enough that he got a good view of her.
    Her hair appeared light brown, like the color of the sand outside in the desert. He walked closer to get a better look. Her eyes were as blue as the ocean, a location he preferred to where he currently stood. A pert and slightly upturned nose lay between cheekbones that would have jealous Hollywood starlets run and complain to their plastic surgeons. All of that in addition to the fullest red lips he’d ever seen.
    She regarded him silently, her tongue running over her mouth. His cock jumped in his pants.
    Holy Shit .
    He wanted her.
    “You’re going to be a problem. Aren’t you?”
    Her accent sounded British, but not upper crust and stuffy. No, the little woman spoke like she’d stepped right out the back alleys of London and had no problem with that whatsoever. Her eyes dared him to argue.
    He didn’t intend to. “I’m searching for my brother.”
    She gazed right and left. “Doesn’t seem to be here. Sorry.”
    Scott rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”
    “I’m Nancy Elwood.” She stepped out from behind the bar.
    “Nancy.” He didn’t know why he felt the need to repeat her name. Maybe because, for some weird reason, it felt good on his tongue. Like her pussy would . He blinked at the thought. Wow. How long has it been since I’ve gone to bed with a woman ? Weeks earlier. Not fabulous either. But not long enough to warrant such juvenile inner dialogue.
    “I’m Scott Quaid.”
    The bartender walked past him to an old-fashioned jukebox. She studied it for a moment, giving him a glance of her fine ass. After a second, she tuned it to a song he didn’t recognize. Something country-western, but with a club beat. He hadn’t known such music existed. I need to get out more .
    She approached until she stood directly below him. With his six feet of height, she stared up from a long way down. After a quick raise of her eyebrow, she grinned.
    “You’re tall. Are you big everywhere?”
    “Are you small everywhere? I like to explore tiny places.” All right. That seemed pretty fucking random.
    She licked her lips and threw her apron on the ground.
    His mouth dried again. “I’m trying to find my brother. He’s missing.