Page 44 of Iron Will
“Just beer is fine.”
I follow him to the bar and let him push through to order. A few seconds later he turns back around with glasses of foamy amber liquid, and hands one to me.
“Cheers,” I call above the din. “To Mickey. May he be having a miserable time right now.”
Rourke bursts into loud laughter. “Now that I can drink to.”
As we raise our glasses to drink, I feel Rourke’s eyes on me. I find myself wondering what he sees. What he thinks of me. An uptight social worker? A hoity-toity transplant from Louisville with no social life? Something else?
I find that I care about his opinion, very much. A lot more than I want to.
“So,” I pipe up, to break the silence. “This is Shooter’s. You come here often?”
He shrugs. “Often enough. It’s a good ride from Ironwood on a nice day. And like I said, their burgers can’t be beat.” His eyes move to a spot in the corner. “Hey. There’s Mal and Cyndi.”
I turn to look. Over playing darts is one of the Lords I saw at the hospital visiting Bear. With him is a pretty, statuesque blonde who’s dressed to the nines, in black leather and lace and thigh-high platform boots. If she rode here on the back of the biker’s Harley, I don’t know how the heck she did it.
“Let’s go on over and say hi,” Rourke says, grabbing my hand. He leads me toward them, and I’m so stunned by the contact of his skin that I can barely think as he guides me through the crowds of people. Mal sees us and leans over to say something to the woman. She turns, and when she notices Rourke she breaks into a wide, lipsticked smile and lifts a red-nailed hand in an excited wave.
“Hey, Rourke!” she cries, doing a happy little jump in her heels as we get close. Her eyes move to me, and register just a second’s worth of surprise. “Hi!” she says. “I’m Cyndi!”
I’m not sure whether her confusion is because I don’t look like Rourke’s type, or because she expected to see someone else with him. With an unpleasant jolt, it occurs to me for the first time that he might have a girlfriend.Or girlfriends, most likely.
The thought makes my stomach hurt a little. How has it never occurred to me that women are probably all over Rourke? He’s definitely one of the most attractive men I’ve ever seen. And without a doubt, the sexiest. He has this way of holding himself, this way of moving that’s both graceful and powerful. It’s hard not to stare at him, and I imagine other women would feel the same. I mean, even the nurses at the hospital follow him with their eyes as he moves down the hall.
“You have the most gorgeous hair,” Cyndi enthuses. She reaches up to touch the end of my ponytail, which has fallen over my shoulder, but then drops her hand. “Sorry,” she laughs. “I’m a hairdresser. It’s second nature to me to touch people’s hair.”
“That’s okay,” I say automatically.
“Your ends could use a little trim, though,” she murmurs, cocking her head. “No offense. I work at Curl up and Dye. You should come by sometime. I’ll give you the friends and family discount!”
“Didn’t know you had a hot date, Rourke,” the biker named Mal jokes. “How you doin’, Miss Laney? How’d this degenerate get you to come out with him?”
I open my mouth to reply, but Rourke cuts him off. “None of your fuckin’ business, bright boy,” he snarls, but Mal just laughs.
“Hey, you wanna play a couple rounds of darts with us?” Cyndi asks. “I don’t like playing with Mal because he always smokes me. But maybe with teams we’d be better matched.”
“I, uh, don’t know how to play darts,” I stammer.
Rourke smirks. “No worries. I could beat Mal blindfolded.”
“That right, fucker?” Mal retorts.
“I’m about to show you that’s right,” Rourke shoots back.
It turns out, Rourke is as good as his word. After they explain to me what the different rings on the board mean, we play two rounds of a game they call 301. I have a hard time following the rules, and I’m not much help. It’s a victory for me that I can even get the darts on the board at all. But in the end, Rourke and I win both games — or rather, Rourke wins. Mal, pretending to be more pissed than he is, buys us a couple of rounds of shots at the bar as congratulations.
By the time Mal and Cyndi say they’re going to take off, I’m feeling fuzzy and loose. As nervous as I was to come here, it turns out I’m having a great time — thank God for alcohol as a social lubricant. Cyndi gives me a big, perfumy hug, and the two of them take off, leaving us sitting on our stools at the bar.
We each order a burger and fries from the bartender. Mine turns out to be just as delicious as Rourke told me it would be.
“That was fun, playing darts with your friends,” I grin at Rourke. “Even though I seriously suck at that game.”
“You’re a beginner. You’ll get better. You just need practice.”
“This is the most fun I’ve had in forever, actually,” I admit, sliding a fry through my ketchup. “I feel sonormalright now.”
Rourke’s amused. “Usually you feel abnormal?”