Throttle's Seduction: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 7) by Chiah Wilder

shifted her weight from one foot to another, and then her eyes lit up. “I know. I’ll put them in one of my grocery bags. Ruthie won’t suspect anything.”
    “Sweetheart, I don’t give a damn how you do it, just fuckin’ do it.” He placed the two bottles in her hands. She smiled and then sashayed to the kitchen.
    Throttle looked out the window, watching the cars pass by. The heat shimmered off the asphalt, and the leaves on the trees remained motionless; the heat from the day had melted into the dusk. A cherry-red Dodge pickup caught his attention as it turned into the diner’s parking lot and secured a space in front. A man in a black cowboy hat jumped down before he rushed over to the passenger door and opened it. Throttle whistled under his breath as he saw a pair of tanned, shapely legs. The truck door and the cowboy blocked the woman’s face, but if the rest of the chick matched her legs, he’d have to figure out a way to get to know her. He could easily see those gams around his waist.
    “Here you go.” Peggy placed his dinner salad and cup of dressing on the table, diverting his attention back to her. “Did you work hard today?”
    Shaking black pepper on his salad, he nodded. “It was fuckin’ hot out there today. Hell, it still is and the sun’s getting ready to set.”
    “I heard it was ninety-eight.”
    “Wouldn’t be surprised.”
    She licked her lips and leaned her thigh against the table. “Do the people you do work for ever invite you in to cool off?”
    He glanced at her then threw her a half-smile. “Sometimes. Why?”
    “I heard that you and your partner get a lot of housewives hitting on you. That’s all.” She shrugged. “Is that true?”
    He mixed the dressing in his salad and took a big bite. “Us, the postman, the milkman, and probably the pizza guy. All the fuckin’ stereotypes, you know?” He winked.
    The truth was many of the women would invite them in for a cold drink and make a play for them. If the women were attractive and they weren’t too busy, they’d accommodate her, but they worked as a team. None of the women complained, and even though they didn’t hook up with most of their female customers, the word leaked out that the two buff men sometimes gave a free bonus. He and Rags would always laugh when they’d arrive at a job during the day and find the husband home sick for the day. Damn, if they didn’t know better, the two bikers would’ve thought that Pinewood Springs was one of the unhealthiest towns in Colorado.
    “Are you being funny, or are the rumors true?”
    “Hire us. Then you’ll find out for sure.” He lifted his eyebrows.
    At first she just stared at him, but then a wide grin spread across her face as she swatted his arm. “Oh, you. You’re such a kidder.” A hot rush of heat fell over his back as the diner’s door opened. She pushed away from the table. “I gotta get this.” She walked away, and he heard her say, “Can I help you?”
    A male voice said, “A booth for two.”
    Throttle finished his salad as the couple ambled past him. He recognized the woman’s sexy legs as the ones coming out of the cherry-red pickup. Shifting his glance upward, he took in her firm, high ass, and her glossy black hair with neon pink tips— What the fuck? He sat up straighter. It can’t be. Those legs and that ass can’t belong to her . Wait. She did have a cute ass in her fuckin’ coveralls.
    When the sexy-legged woman swung around and sat in the booth facing him, there was no mistaking her striking blue eyes—the ones that did weird shit to him, like making his dick twitch and his stomach tighten. Fuck. It is her. What the hell is Kimber doing with a goddamned cowboy? He grunted and watched as Peggy wrote on her pad, taking the couple’s order. When she finished, Throttle motioned her over.
    “You want some more salad, honey?”
    “No. Bring me one of the beers.” He jerked his head to the couple. “What’s up with them?”
    Peggy