~ Harley ~
Claire Valentine does not sit like a normal person.
She takes space.
The bar stool beside mine creaks slightly as she crosses one leg over the other, red dress sliding just enough to make three different bikers forget how breathing works.
She knows it.
Which makes it worse.
She swirls the drink she poured earlier like she’s judging the alcohol for personal flaws.
“God,” she says casually. “Your club still serves the same whiskey.”
Quinn stands beside the bar, arms folded.
“It’s a bar.”
Claire glances up.
“Yes, Quinn. I’m aware.”
Elijah leans against the far end of the counter.
Watching her.
Not amused.
Claire notices immediately.
Her smile widens.
“Oh look,” she murmurs. “The monk is judging me again.”
Elijah sighs.
“You walked in ten minutes ago and already i
