AND THEN THERE’S THE HOT AUSSIE MAN AND…

Posted: January 3, 2012 in Uncategorized

A room full of bikers… Well, Mick St. Simon – my resident bad boy and the owner of The Flamingo Rustler – the snazzy bar and grill in the middle of the series – has a handful do deal with including the fact he’s vying for the attention of one hot Community Manager – Nicky French. What’s a boy to do when he’s given a snazzy gift of sexy hot pink panties? Hmmm…

THE FLAMINGO WRANGLER (Five o’ Clock Nowhere)

“Hey boss. Need your attention my man.” Froggy grinned as the UPS driver stood in front of him and called up the stairs.

Hissing, Mick shook his head but had to admit his number one bartender was right. The geeky brown outfit and tall spandex comfort socks did nothing for the flushed man, sweat dripping off his brow. The poor overweight boy looked more than a bit uncomfortable in the intense Richmond Virginia summer heat. “Behave,” he said as he snagged a glance at the package and even from the distance could see Froggy’s mind racing.

“Who me? I think the afternoon just got saucy,” Froggy chuckled as he brushed the tip of his finger across the seam his mouth, his eyes glinting mischievously.

“Uh-huh, mate.” Bartending for the now number one soon-to-be-wildest-theme-bar in the fair city allowed his brawny bartender certain interests of his own. And yanking Mick St. Simons’ chain was one of his favorites.  There was nothing like teasing a fighting Aussie to get your blood rolling and while Mick was exhausted from recent events, he couldn’t afford not to be on his game. Nope, the night was sure to be a hot one. After all, Thursdays were becoming as famous as Sandbox Saturdays, their latest endeavor, complete with sand, sun and a swim up bar. No holes barred. Who knew Chesterfield County could have some a snazzy place? Already jumping with activity his gut told him it was going to be a wild night.

“Scared to open it, boss?”

“Come here and I’ll smack you.” Mick scanned the perimeter and sighed. Damn, if he wasn’t nervous as a little kid about to attend the local bully’s birthday party. Whew. He checked his watch for the twentieth time that day. His date was rolling around the corner fast. A date with the lovely strawberry golden blond that had boiled his blood this long summer month. Nicky French, spunky Community Manager of the insane community across the street, Leopard’s Pointe and always sexy and feisty, was his tasty treat for the evening.  And Mick tingled in anticipation. Grinning, he thought about their first now infamous meeting and licked his lips. She was one saucy babe. And she’d smack the crap out of him for thinking this way.

He heard Froggy’s chuckle and wondered what the hell had been delivered. Standing by his office perch window over the expansive dining room, Mick gazed down at the vibrantly dressed patrons. There was nothing like shades of hot pink and tangerine to spruce up a summer’s night. Damn, it was like five o’clock nowhere but the place was already hopping. The snazzy thought made him grin all the way to the bank. If he kept up the crowds day after day that came for either the delicious menu or the insane drinks Froggy kept concocting, then he’d be rich by Christmas.

“Boss dude? I really think you’ll want to handle this package all by yourself.” Folding his arms Froggy issued another shameless laugh.

Mick grumbled and strolled down the stairs. It had been awhile since he’d been out of his signature black, tight – skin-tight jeans for a real honest to goodness date with a woman who he wanted to get into her…tight little mini-skirt. But Nicky deserved the best. A new pair of crisp cream linen pants and a deep turquoise shirt matched his…now what did Nicky call them as he was hovering over her naked? Oh yes, the most stimulating dancing blue eyes she’d ever seen. Sexy, sinful and downright delicious. He was the one for her all the way. You betcha. He was the one who would steal her heart away. That is if he could get past tonight.

He puffed up and stared at the skittish UPS guy. Oh bloody hell who the hell was he kidding? Being in the running with another guy and one he actually figured out he liked did nothing for his very manhood. No, Tyler Deverall, Homicide Detective extraordinaire, was possibly making more headway than he was. Damn the shaggy headed man with the boyish grin.

“Looks like someone sent you a goody bag, Mick.” Froggy nodded toward the package. “My guess by the saucy chili red lips placed on the return address area right there, you’re gonna just love what’s inside.”

Mick flashed Froggy a snarl.

“I just need ya’ll to sign here.” The UPS man held out his handheld.

“Since when do I gotta sign for a package?”

“Since the little filly decided that you had to before she’d let it go I guess.” Puff ball held out a pen.

“Little filly, eh?” Mick started to smile. Nicky was a surprise all right. The kind of “filly” he could spend more time with. If only Nicky would allow him to. No, she had certainly made good on her promise after the surprise mud-wrestling event he and Tyler had forced on her. Why he had thought the little money-making charity even would turn her head and force her hand was beyond him. She’d kept to herself these long four weeks. Thank God her good sense or good graces or pity on at least him had taken over. Wait… A pity date? Shit!

The UPS guy stared up high at the very tall muscular blond man with obvious envy and shrugged. “Sure enough with lips like that on a package I sure hope you don’t got a man sending that kind of package to you. That would be a damn shame, now wouldn’t it?” A chortle from the red faced man brought Mick’s harsh eyes and angry face down to his.

The now shaking driver gulped and Mick could swear he heard the guy’s knees knocking.

“Oooohhh, I’m shakin’,” Froggy chortled.

“If I were you little service man, I’d take your pen, your name card that tells you who you belong to and your brown ugly truck and leave while you still can.” Mick was only kidding but the man about to loose his cookies didn’t know it.

UPS man stared up and down at his solid six foot four inch mass and choked. “Ssssuuuurrreeee. Ssssooooorrryyy.” He scuttled backward toward the door as the sultry blond waitress gave Mick a nasty look.

Nothing like having your own waitress giving you the evil eye. But Candy knew how to drill any man into the floor. Thank God for that.

UPS man hit the door running full out. Who knew pudgy legs could fly that fast.

Mick chuckled and gazed down at the package.

“A little hard on him there weren’t cha, boss?” Froggy smiled, his eyes twinkling. He leaned over the bar and pushed the package closer. “If I’m not mistaken, and I usually am not, you’re going to get laid tonight. And might I say thank God for all of us.”

“If I didn’t like you so much Froggy my man, I would kick your ass from one end of my bar to the other.”

“Funny how you keep reminding me it’s your bar.” Froggy laughed.

Mick was nothing but a good natured sexy guy who kept all the women coming back to the bar, including the cronies from across the street. Unfortunately, the single beautiful woman who’d stolen Mick’s heart and parts of his body had remained AWOL – Nicky French. His wafting cologne and stud muffin attire was nothing but a bright beacon screaming Mick had a date.

“So hot date boy, how about my hot new Pink Ivory signature drink on the house tonight for our rather interesting patrons?”  Froggy sniffed as he plunked fresh bottles of liquor on the counter.

“How about two only?” Like they needed ‘em any drunker. Mick started to growl when the thudding sound of the front door and a booming loud echo thumped throughout the joint. Only the pulsing surf music masked the power of the large arms that forced the massive steel back into the doorjamb. Mick stared as the wild crowd sauntered in the bar like they owned the joint.

“Oh shit, looks like The Flamingo Rustler will never be the same again,” Froggy hissed as he eyed the six humongous men with amusement. “Then again maybe they’ll mean another adventure tonight. Oh yeah, you already got one of your own planned.

“Froggy!” Mick snarled through clenched teeth as he gazed down the lot of the rough-hewn men. The term wild-eyed-burly biker took on an entirely new meaning when the six dudes strolled in. Mick eyed them cautiously. Not that The Flamingo Rustler hadn’t been a bar designed specifically for the Richmond Harley Riders of America when his grandfather owned the club. But that was several years, a complete restoration and a new chef later. And the sometimes multiple personality encompassing his nearly deranged Italian chef wouldn’t like to serve men who wore nothing but leather. Staring around at the gaping crowd of mostly association community leaders and their co-horts, he knew his life was going to hell in a hand basket in a hurry.

“Nice place.” The tallest of the bikers laughed.

“Think we could roost for a while here. Whatcha think, Big T?” The Puerto Rican had more tattoos than Mick’s grandfather, or so he thought from the pictures Mick had seen. Crazy old fart. Shame they’d never met. Maybe he could have given Mick a pointer or two about handling the rough flock who’d found their way into his bar.

“Oh yeah. Let’s just see if we can find some sexy ladies.” The shortest stud-wanna-be eyed Candy. By the time he finished licking his lips and gyrating his hips, Candy was in the process of giving him the read-between-the-lines finger.

“Is Lurch here yet?” Froggy walked around the bar.

They both knew Candy could handle herself. That wasn’t the immediate problem but having a hulking mass as a bouncer helped with the rougher crowds. “I hope to hell not. If he sees one of these guys going for Candy, I’ll never get my bar back from the cops.” Mick suddenly wished his massive bouncer was in the house. He moved toward the group and watched as several of the ladies from Leopard’s Pointe licked their lips. Damn if the sixty some year old women didn’t need to get laid more than he did. The ugly thought frosted his last nerve. Never mind they used all the condoms in the lady’s bathroom. God, he hated the gated community association across the street.

The one who answered to “Big T” stalked forward wearing a shit-eating grin. Obviously the leader of the group, he stared behind the bar as Wildman walked out from the back.

Mick turned to glare at his second in charge bartender. Roger Martin, who would never answer to his given name, was no slacker himself. His hulking muscles, long dark hair and handle bar mustache screamed bad-ass. In truth, he was a pussy cat in disguise. But the evil, crazed and ferocious look he wore today even sizzled Mick’s last nerve. God, he sensed a massive fight in the middle of his freaking bar. “Wildman, you know these gentlemen?”

Wildman held his hand out to stop all movement in the bar and the entire place shut down. Except for the sing-songy sounds of some blond surfer dude crooning now what appeared to be a bad rendition of a rumba song, you could hear a pin drop. He slid around the bar keeping his demeanor cool but staring into Big T’s eyes.

The five other bikers moved back, crossed their arms and the stance stated clearly hip and dangerous. No one was going to leave the bar alive.

I don’t know – I have my bets on the hot Aussie – I think you will too!

Ciao   xxx

Dakotah

 

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