Gypsy
“You don’t look like someone who is involved with a biker.”
The woman wiping the dust from shelves behind my bar paused, throwing a glance over her shoulder. I expected her to look angry, but the smile she had on her face was dazzling.
“Don’t I, sweetheart? What did you expect us to look like?”
I froze at the question. What had I expected her to look like? Honestly, I didn’t know. “I don’t know. Just not like…” I motioned to her with my hand. Blowing out a breath that lifted my hair from my sweaty face, I tried again. “Sorry, that came out so rude. Let's start again. I’m Gypsy and I speak without thinking.”
Throwing back her mane of dark hair, she laughed. “You’re ok, Gypsy. I like a woman who says it how it is. Means you can stick up for yourself. But to answer your question, w
