“Non,” Elise said firmly over James’ protests. “Just put us as far from the smoke as possible.”
“’K,” the waitress agreed amiably. “This way.” She led the way between a double row of booths covered in shiny, bright blue vinyl. Several of the other customers gave them skeptical looks as they passed, including a whole booth of what appeared to be Hell’s Angels. At least, Elise thought they must belong to some kind of gang or motorcycle club. They wore their leather jackets and multiple tattoos with equal ease and they all had an abundance of facial hair.
The waitress seated them a few booths down from the bikers and Elise studied them out of the corner of her eye. There was one in particular who she thought might be almost as tall as Merrick. He had a long black beard that was forked in the middle and Hell Bent tattooed on his knuckles. When he saw Elise watching him, he winked and blew her a kiss.
Elise flushed and looked down hastily. She’d only been looking because his size reminded her of Merrick—not because she wanted to cause a scene. She studied her sticky plastic menu intently, trying to decide between pancakes and French toast. But the biker wouldn’t let it drop. Winking at his friends, he rose and sauntered over to their booth.
“Hey, pretty lady. Lookin’ for a guy from the other side of the tracks for a change?”
“I beg your pardon?” James looked up from his menu, which he had been holding distastefully with his fingertips.
Elise bit her lip. Oh dear, this probably wasn’t going to end well. “I’m sorry I was staring at you,” she said, trying to keep things from turning ugly. “It’s just, well, you reminded me of someone.”
“Hey, I can be anybody you want, sweet thing. If you know what I mean.” The biker with the black beard winked at her in what he clearly thought was a seductive way.
“Thanks for your kind offer, but the lady is with me,” James said coolly, looking up at the huge biker.
Blackbeard, as Elise was beginning to think of him, bristled at the scorn in her fiancé’s voice. “Well maybe she doesn’t wanna be with you, buddy. Maybe she’s lookin’ for a real man for a change.”
James rose, frowning, and put down his menu with deliberate precision. “I assure you, friend, I am a real man and the lady is with me by her own choice. Now if you don’t mind, we’re about to enjoy brunch—although I use the word ‘enjoy’ in the most dubious sense considering our surroundings. But regardless of the circumstances, we would like to be left in peace.”
“That’s a whole lotta words just to tell me to piss off.” Blackbeard smirked and then wiggled his bushy black eyebrows at Elise. “Come on, sweet thing—you don’t mean to tell me this guy is the best you can do.”
“If you’re implying—” James began but just then another of the bikers came up and put a hand on his huge friend’s leather clad shoulder.
“Hey, Hank, leave this guy alone.”
“Why should I?” Blackbeard snarled.
“’Cause I saw him on the news vids—that’s James Blaisdon. He donated money for the new skate park for the kids downtown.”
“Oh yeah?” Blackbeard’s face cleared immediately and he grinned at James amiably. “That right? My nephew loves that place. Little bastard would rather ride a skateboard than a bike but I love ’im anyway.”
James smiled his best public relations grin and held out a hand. “Glad to hear it. And good to meet you…?”
“Hank. Hank Jones.” Blackbeard stuck out a ham-sized hand and James took it and pumped it with a smile.
“Excellent. James Blaisdon, at your service.”
“Damn, don’t he talk fancy!” the other biker crowed. “Just like one of them English movies about lords and ladies my old lady’s always watchin’.” He grinned at James who laughed.
“You’d have to blame my Oxford education for my accent, I’m afraid. But I enjoy meeting new friends from the other side of the pond.”
“Sorry I messed with you,” Blackbeard aka Hank Jones said. “I didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”
“Don’t worry about it—I can take a joke as well as the next fellow.” James’ smile didn’t quite reach his dark blue eyes but the bikers didn’t seem to notice. “I’ll tell you what, why don’t you let me buy you and your friends a meal? Whatever you order, it’s on me.”
“Really?” Blackbeard’s eyes widened. “Hell yeah, that’d be great!”
“Excellent. Waitress?” James signaled for the waitress who had seated them. Since she and everyone else in the IHOP had been watching the exchange avidly, she came forward at once.