Read Online Wild Child (Rock Royalty #6) by Christie Ridgway - Free Book Online Page A

men, she could tell, though their faces were obscured by baseball caps with dripping brims worn low on their foreheads.
    “It’s damn cold,” the one at the rear said, nudging the guy in front of him forward. “I need a beer to warm up.”
    They made to angle past her without actually making eye contact.
    “Hold up,” she said, blocking their path. “Welcome to Satan’s.”
    “Yeah yeah,” one muttered. “Thanks.”
    “I’ll need to see some ID.”
    “What?” The closest one, the presumed leader of their small pack, dipped his chin so he could see her from beneath his Dodgers hat. “We’re regulars.”
    “Well I’m new,” Ash said.
    “Brae—”
    “And I’m not Brae.”
    The young man in the back muttered something but she ignored him. “IDs, gentlemen, or I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
    The atmosphere surrounding them seemed to darken. She took in a quick breath and decided they’d already been drinking. They smelled like beer and whisky, and her stomach knotted. With a force of will, she stopped herself from looking around for Jim or someone else to come to her aid.
    I’m the new owner and operator of Satan’s Roadhouse. I can do this.
    “Gentlemen?”
    One of the boys sniggered. She decided then and there that’s what they were—boys. Their skinny hips and ragged shoes were suddenly making that point very clear.
    “We just want to play some pool,” the leader said in a sullen voice.
    “Not unless you can prove you’re over 21.”
    The door behind them opened, but she didn’t let her attention wander to newcomers.
    Without another word, the leader tried stepping around her again, but she moved quickly to obstruct his path. His anger was palpable.
    “Lady, just get the hell—”
    “I’m sorry,” she said in her firmest tone. There was only one solution to this circumstance. You only needed common sense to realize that. “But I’m now asking you to leave.”
    She thought a new, lower voice sounded from behind the pack, but the music—something rock that she didn’t recognize—hit a drum solo, and she couldn’t be sure. The boy at the front tilted his chin to meet her eyes again.
    Without flinching, she stared into his. “Time to go.”
    That voice again from the back. In response to it or perhaps to her stare, the leader retreated a step, tripping on the shoes of the boy behind him. He cursed, spun, and then shoved that guy into the others in the group. They all pitched unsteadily like bowling pins—or half-drunken fools—then righted themselves and departed in a rush of heavy footsteps and under-the-breath curses.
    The final malevolent backward glance from Dodgers Hat made obvious she’d embarrassed if not downright humiliated him.
    Still, that thought didn’t stop elation from welling up inside her as she watched the door close behind the troublemakers. She’d handled a real problem on her own. For the first time, she was actually running the roadhouse instead of merely going through the motions.
    Her lucky night.
    “Ash.”
    With a start, she whirled toward the sound of her name. The person who had come in behind the underage boys had moved aside as they exited. He stepped toward her now. Brody Maddox, stealing her breath with his chiseled cheekbones and arresting blue eyes.
    No!
    “What are you doing here?” she demanded, hyperaware of what she was wearing. Brae’s gauzy blouse was cut low, and her black velvet skirt’s hemline was high. The scrunchy lace of the boot cuffs she wore covered her knees, but there was a lot of bare thigh still revealed. Brody’s gaze, however, didn’t leave her face.
    “You shouldn’t be dealing with that,” he said, nodding toward the door.
    She frowned. “My customers?”
    “They aren’t your customers. They’re punks. If they’re 21 then I’m the latest champion of the Westminster Kennel Club.”
    Since he was the farthest thing from a dog of any man she’d ever seen, she pressed her lips together.
    “This is not the