10/24/18

#FFA4 Policy Of Truth Reveal By Scarlett Holloway #McRomance


                        Policy Of Truth
                       Scarlett Holloway


Excerpt 2 –
He wasn’t expecting the bar tender to be the girl who laid the smack down on Chico.
She sashayed out from the back with bottles of sweet-and-sour, dropping them into the well and turning her attention to him. “Can I get you something, cowboy?”
How about a remedy for the insta-wood he got just looking at her?
Tight-ass jeans, boots, and a tank top that left little to the imagination? Yeah, she was looking mighty scrumptious and he was a hungry man. Her hair was pulled back out of her face, revealing the soft brown eyes that reminded him of a cup of hot cocoa. She barely wore any makeup, but with her milky complexion, she had no need for it.
“How about you surprise me with something?”
Her laughter was like wind chimes on a midsummer’s day, light and cheerful. Infectious. “You’re brave.”
“I don’t think a tall glass of bartender is on the drink list, is it?”
“Oh, good one.” She nodded, plucking up a glass from the side of the bar. “I think you’ll get a Durty Special.”
His brows shot up. “Durty Special? I’m almost afraid.”
“You should be.” She winked at him as she grabbed the black rum, pouring some into the glass after some ice was dumped into it.
“Name is Brett, what’s yours?”
“Tamra, but most everyone calls me Durty.”
“Nice to meet you, Tamra. Or maybe I’ll just call you Durty T.” Sting chuckled as he watched her add grape schnapps then layer green apple schnapps over it.
“Cute. Never been called that before, Cowboy Brett.”
Rolling his eyes, he lifted the drink, a bit scared to even try the damn thing. It was surprisingly good. The spice of the black rum canceled out the sweetness of the schnapps, but the flavors mixing was amazing. Who’d have thunk it?
“No, what would be cute, would be you up on the bar dancing for me.” Sting bounced his brows as he patted the bar top.
Glancing into the mirror behind the bar, it wasn’t hard to spot his brothers. T-Rex stood out like a sore thumb with his rockabilly style. Copper and Duke blended in, wearing their jeans and boots just like Brett. The coast was clear on the Warrior front.
Attention was drawn back to Durty as she actually jumped up onto the bar as Dirrty by Christina Aguilera, was the song pick of the moment. Leaning back to catch a better view of the little hottie before him, his brows rose slowly as her hips slowly rotate in time with the music.
Down boy, down!
Sting had to blink a couple of times and sit back in his seat to try and cool his jets. Durty put the tease in striptease, but without any article of clothing coming off. Her body undulated and rocked with the beats of the song, her head falling back to expose her long neck line. Sinking to her knees, she parted them as her hands ran up her thighs, her hips writhing as her hands made their way up her chest, then her throat, until they tangled in her hair, pulling it free of its hold.
He cleared his throat, glancing around him, almost paranoid at his own body’s reaction to the show before him. No one was paying attention to them, giving him some relief on a mental level, though he need to have a date with his left hand at this rate.
He swore a tiny moan rolled past her lips as she felt herself up, which was more of a turn on than her dance. Sting reached down to adjust himself, not caring if she saw him do it or not. She got the reaction she wanted with her little show.
Durty hopped off the bar as the music ended, gathering up her hair and placing it back into its ponytail. “Cute is for puppy dogs, by the way.”
Sting cleared his throat, then picked up his glass and finished the drink. “Point taken.”
Durty winked at him, grabbing his now empty glass. “Refill?”
“No, one’s good. I’m driving. I do have a question for you though.”
“Shoot.”
Taking out his cell phone, he opened his contacts and set it in front of her. “Put your hot self in my phone?”
Durty smiled, her tongue sweeping across her lips as she picked up the phone and punched in her numbers. Handing it back to him, she leaned against the well of the bar. “All saved.”
“I’ll be calling you.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Sting nodded, laughing under his breath as he rounded up the others and headed out. They’d be closing soon, and there was no need for them to shut the place down. No one would be making an appearance tonight.
Opening his phone, he looked at her saved information and burst out laughing. She’d given him a number all right—867-5309. The song would play in his head all night long—good luck sleeping.

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