1.
Jake gripped the handlebars of his Harley, his calloused hands barely feeling the strain of riding all day. His heavily muscled forearms were tanned where they peeked out of his broken in black leather jacket. It was almost too warm for it but if he didn't wear it, he'd have to pack it.
Jake liked to travel light.
Material possessions didn't mean anything to him. He had a handful of worn in clothes. A phone, his boots and his bike. That's it. He moved from place to place when the urge struck him.
And it struck him often.
Nothing had any permanence in this life and that's the way he liked it. Easy come, easy go. He had a ‘take it as it comes’ attitude when it came to clothes, personal belongings, friends and women.
Especially women.
In fact, Jake had just taken off from his last apartment when Suzy, one of the girls who hung around the bar he worked in, got a little too clingy. Hell, she got a lot too clingy. She'd started acting like she was his girlfriend.
Jake snorted. A girlfriend. That was a laugh. He didn't believe in relationships.
Hell, he didn't believe in much of anything.
A good beer, a good meal, a good lay. That and the feeling of his bike between his legs, hugging the road, riding like the wind. He liked to go fast.
Jake got a lot of traffic tickets. But that was okay. He could afford it.
Hell, the family lawyer was on retainer whether he used him or not. As aggravating as his family was at times, that lawyer had come in handy after a bar fight or twelve. Especially the time he broke a guy’s jaw for hitting a woman in the parking lot.
That was one fight he never regretted, no matter how much it cost his old man.
Jake had been at the end of his shift and enjoying a cold beer and a smoke out back when he heard it. A guy had been smack talking his woman. It had quickly progressed to him laying hands to her, roughing her up and more than just a little. Jake had come to the lady's defense. But by the next morning, the lady had been singing a different tune. She'd said Jake's attack was unprovoked, even saying that her bruises came from getting in the way of the scuffle.
That's what always happened. As soon as they'd found out who Jake was, who his family was, the gold diggers started swinging their pick axes. Nothing made Jake more disgusted than someone who was after his family's money.
Nobody robbed the Delancey's. It was a point of pride, even for Jake who'd turned his back on it. All seven billion of it.
Jake didn't want a cent of it himself. He was a firm believer in living off what you made with your hands. Of course, Jake was also a firm believer in working as little as possible.
That's why Jake Delancey, youngest son of the richest family in the state of Tennessee, was a bartender.
He smiled to himself.
Sometimes he wasn't even that. He'd been bar back more than once. He didn't really care one way or the other.
But, oooeeee, it sure pissed off his folks. And that was what he was after really, wasn't it? Punishing them for what they'd done to him.
What they'd believed.
He took the winding road through the expensive suburbs of Brentwood out to where the houses started to thin out and farms and ranches started to take over. As he crested a hill he could see it; Delancey Stables.
Home sweet home.
He nearly
Jake gripped the handlebars of his Harley, his calloused hands barely feeling the strain of riding all day. His heavily muscled forearms were tanned where they peeked out of his broken in black leather jacket. It was almost too warm for it but if he didn't wear it, he'd have to pack it.
Jake liked to travel light.
Material possessions didn't mean anything to him. He had a handful of worn in clothes. A phone, his boots and his bike. That's it. He moved from place to place when the urge struck him.
And it struck him often.
Nothing had any permanence in this life and that's the way he liked it. Easy come, easy go. He had a ‘take it as it comes’ attitude when it came to clothes, personal belongings, friends and women.
Especially women.
In fact, Jake had just taken off from his last apartment when Suzy, one of the girls who hung around the bar he worked in, got a little too clingy. Hell, she got a lot too clingy. She'd started acting like she was his girlfriend.
Jake snorted. A girlfriend. That was a laugh. He didn't believe in relationships.
Hell, he didn't believe in much of anything.
A good beer, a good meal, a good lay. That and the feeling of his bike between his legs, hugging the road, riding like the wind. He liked to go fast.
Jake got a lot of traffic tickets. But that was okay. He could afford it.
Hell, the family lawyer was on retainer whether he used him or not. As aggravating as his family was at times, that lawyer had come in handy after a bar fight or twelve. Especially the time he broke a guy’s jaw for hitting a woman in the parking lot.
That was one fight he never regretted, no matter how much it cost his old man.
Jake had been at the end of his shift and enjoying a cold beer and a smoke out back when he heard it. A guy had been smack talking his woman. It had quickly progressed to him laying hands to her, roughing her up and more than just a little. Jake had come to the lady's defense. But by the next morning, the lady had been singing a different tune. She'd said Jake's attack was unprovoked, even saying that her bruises came from getting in the way of the scuffle.
That's what always happened. As soon as they'd found out who Jake was, who his family was, the gold diggers started swinging their pick axes. Nothing made Jake more disgusted than someone who was after his family's money.
Nobody robbed the Delancey's. It was a point of pride, even for Jake who'd turned his back on it. All seven billion of it.
Jake didn't want a cent of it himself. He was a firm believer in living off what you made with your hands. Of course, Jake was also a firm believer in working as little as possible.
That's why Jake Delancey, youngest son of the richest family in the state of Tennessee, was a bartender.
He smiled to himself.
Sometimes he wasn't even that. He'd been bar back more than once. He didn't really care one way or the other.
But, oooeeee, it sure pissed off his folks. And that was what he was after really, wasn't it? Punishing them for what they'd done to him.
What they'd believed.
He took the winding road through the expensive suburbs of Brentwood out to where the houses started to thin out and farms and ranches started to take over. As he crested a hill he could see it; Delancey Stables.
Home sweet home.
He nearly
Similar Books
