Chapter Ten
CHAPTER TEN
HE HADN’T BEEN kidding.
For the past week, a scowling biker sat outside her house at all hours. In an unexpected twist—she spread her fingers, peering through the blinds on her office window—they followed her everywhere she went.
Work? A biker came along.
Grocery store? They were there too.
Nail salon? Yep, a biker sat in the parking lot while she pampered her toes.
Unfortunately, that was the extent of her outings ninety percent of the time. Whoever these poor guys guarding her were, they had to be bored out of their minds with her mundane routine. Again, she was realizing she might need to find herself a social life.
After Pulse left a few days ago, she passed out and woke to a knock on her door a few hours later. A horde of smiling women armed to the teeth with a ridiculous amount of food bullied their way into her home and took over her life for the next three hours.
She’d appreciated their company, but the headache and exhaustion kept her from truly enjoying herself. The rest of them, though? They had a blast laughing, teasing, and acting silly.
Following the car accident, Talia took three days off work to allow her brain to rest, as ordered by her physician. Then she got back to real life—well, real life plus a babysitter.
And plans for the night. Liv had invited—ordered—Talia to join them at the clubhouse for a Friday night barbecue.
When was the last time she’d gone to a barbecue? She was mortified to admit it had been years. Occasionally, she hung out with Margo, but her friend was a partner in a busy law firm, had three kids, and had a husband who owned a small business. Her life was jam-packed with insanity. The rare occasions Margo could sneak away were spent on Talia’s couch, drinking wine, relaxing, and watching reality television. They always invited Talia for holidays, but she tended to pass on the offer, feeling like an outsider in their family unit.
The MC was a family as well. One full of happy couples and people who loved and liked each other more than most blood relatives.
Fear of feeling like an interloper had her on edge all day. That and the fact she hadn’t heard a peep from Pulse in the seven days since he’d showed up at her house.
“Girl, this is the fourth time I’ve walked past your office today and found you staring out that window. There better be a sexy man out there, or I’m gonna start worrying about you.”
Talia jumped and yanked her hand from the blinds. “Shit, Margo, you scared me.”
Her friend snorted. “I called your name three times.” She propped a hip against the door. She wore a trendy power suit in her favorite coral shade.
The way Margo always looked so effortlessly put together reminded Talia of Liv.
“What the hell is going on with you, Tal? You’ve been off since you came back to work. Is it your head? Did you come back too soon?” Concern had Margo’s forehead wrinkling.
Talia bit the inside of her cheek. She hadn’t told Margo the entire truth about the car accident. Margo thought the club was overprotective since Talia was their attorney, and a random person ran her off the road. As much as she trusted her friend and knew Margo could take a secret to the grave, Pulse’s story wasn’t hers to share, and doing so felt like a betrayal.
“Nothing is going on. I’m just…” Ugh, she felt like the uncool high schooler who someone swung an invitation to the football party. Her shoulders sagged. “I was invited to a barbecue at the MC clubhouse tonight, and I’m stressing about it.”
Margo’s face lit up, and she stepped into the office. “You were? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? This is fantastic.” She clapped her hands like an enthusiastic kid instead of a high-powered attorney. “I’m so excited.”
“Really?” Talia raised an eyebrow. “This is why I didn’t tell you,” she said as she waved a hand toward her bubbly friend. “You get all weird whenever I have plans.”
“Pfft.” Margo rolled her eyes. “What’s weird is a thirty-two-year-old woman who hides behind her work and avoids socializing because she’s terrified of having a feeling.”
“Hey!” Ouch, that one hurt. She refused to acknowledge how accurately Margo hit the nail on the head. Denial had served her well for this long—no point in changing things up now. “I am not afraid of having a feeling.”
Liar . It didn’t even sound convincing in her head.
“I have feelings all the time. I feel hungry, I feel tired.” She aimed a pointed look at Margo. “I feel annoyed.”
Margo laughed as she came over and hugged Talia. “Oh, honey, you need so much therapy.”
“Everyone needs therapy,” she muttered against her friend’s coconut-scented hair.
Margo drew back, still chuckling. “True, but some of us aren’t as stubborn as you are, and we are willing to admit we need help and accept that help.” She put her hands on Talia’s shoulders and steered her toward the small sofa in her office.
“I’m not stubborn,” Talia mumbled.
“Sure, sweetie. Just like I don’t have an online shopping problem and didn’t buy three pairs of shoes before I came in here.” Margo gently pushed her onto the couch. “Now, tell me why this has you stressed.”
She opened her mouth to tell Margo to forget about it, but that’s not what came out. “They’re all so close. In my whole life, I’ve never been as close to anyone as these people are to each other, not even my family.” Especially not her family. “And they aren’t even related. I just… it makes me feel…”
“Yes?” Margo rolled her hand as though encouraging Talia to continue. “You feel? Come on, T, use your big-girl words. You can do it.”
She scowled at her friend.
Of course, Margo wasn’t fazed in the slightest. She ate furious prosecutors for lunch, then went home to a pack of hungry children.
“You feel…”
“Ugh, shitty, all right?” she said with a huff that rivaled Margo’s twelve-year-old daughter’s. “It makes me feel shitty. Like I’m broken or something.”
“And why do you think that is?”
She threw her hands up. “I’m sorry, did you get a degree in psychology while I was off?”
A finger wiggled back and forth in front of her eyes. “Don’t get snarky with me, missy.”
“Margo, I’m not one of your kids. I don’t need you to teach me a lesson.”
“All right, look, I’m teasing you.” Margo grabbed her hands. “Mostly.” Her rueful smile erased Talia’s annoyance. “First of all, you are not broken, far from it. Talia, you are an amazing person. It’s okay to let other people see that. It’s okay to go out and have fun. It’s okay to want more and want what the people in that MC have. And it’s okay to stop punishing yourself for something you had no control over. Something your father did more than fifteen years ago.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
Was it? She frowned.
“It is, but we can talk about that another day. It’s okay to trust. Not everyone, but you have a good head on your shoulders, T. You need to trust yourself first, then allow yourself to let others in. Once you do, you can have those close relationships you refuse to admit you crave.”
Margo’s kids were so lucky to have her as their mother. They’d never grow up fucked in the head and unable to connect with people.
“I have no doubt you can do this, and tonight is a great first step. Feeling nervous and unsure is okay, but you must stop holding yourself back.”
She cupped Talia’s face and stared at her with an expression too close to pity for comfort.
“You can’t keep letting your fear keep you from connecting with people. You deserve to have a full life. One where you aren’t lonely.”
“I’m not lonely. I have you,” she said, but it sounded weak even to her ears.
Margo’s only reply was a small, sad smile.
Every time they had a conversation like this, Talia’s stomach soured, and she fought violent waves of nausea. She’d been smack in the middle of a battle between her fears and her desires since before she understood what it meant to have daddy issues.
You’re such a cliché.
“Repeat after me.”
“Margo…”
“I will go to the barbecue.”
Talia glared, which resulted in her friend clearing her throat and cupping a hand around her ear. “I can’t hear you.”
“I will go to the barbecue,” she mumbled.
Margo nodded. “And I will smile and have fun.”
“And I will smile and have fun. Margo, this is stupid.”
The comment earned her a harsh glare.
“Yikes, no wonder your husband is terrified of you.”
Margo’s lips twitched, but she managed not to laugh. “I will talk to people and be friendly.”
“Hey, I’m friendly.”
Margo raised an eyebrow.
“I will talk to people and be friendly.”
“And I will tell at least two people something personal about myself that has nothing to do with my job.”
“And I will—” She froze as Margo’s words registered.
Her friend’s fierce glare transformed into an expression of patience.
Talia sighed. Her shoulders sagged. Why was this so hard for her? People meet other people and form relationships every day. They share stories, experiences, and even traumas. They become friends and intertwine their lives. Sometimes, those friendships become as close as family or turn intimate.
Why did the thought of it turn her blood to ice?
“And I’ll tell two people something personal about myself.”
“That…”
“That has nothing to do with work.”
“Good girl.” Margo hugged her. “Now go home and change into something cute before the barbecue.”
She glanced down at her olive, wide-legged slacks and camel-colored blazer. “This is cute. What’s wrong with my outfit?”
“Nothing at all if you’re at work. Everything if you’re at a barbecue full of bikers. Put on a cute pair of denim shorts and a tank top. A tight one.”
“But it’ll be dark around six. I’ll be chilly.”
Margo shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to find a biker to lend you a hoodie.” She tapped her lips. “Like maybe that sexy one you bailed out of jail the other night.”
“Margo! He’s a client.”
“He is also tall, dark, and handsome with a good job, a sexy voice, and those dark eyes that smolder.” She shivered and winked.
Yes, he was. He was all those things and more—protective, kind, and caring beneath a rough exterior.
Still a client.
“Yes, he’s a good guy.”
Margo snorted. “He’s more than a good guy, and you know it. Keep him in mind when you’re picking out an outfit. Make sure your top is tight. You’ve got great tits. No babies have destroyed them.”
Her face heated. “Margo, you can’t possibly be encouraging me to pursue a client.”
She shrugged. “Normally, I would not, but it’s you. You’re too serious. You need someone to shake your life up a little, and I think Mr. Sexy Biker Nurse might be just the guy to do it.”
Guilt over not sharing the truth about Pulse wormed its way under Talia’s skin, but she couldn’t say anything. On top of not feeling comfortable sharing someone else’s secret, Margo would worry herself sick. Besides, this entire conversation was ludicrous. Even if she didn’t have massive intimacy issues, she wouldn’t go after a client. It was unprofessional and the kind of thing that could ruin her reputation in law circles.
“I’m not starting anything with Pulse.”
“Oh, his name is Pulse? Is that because he makes yours race?”
“Oh my God.” She swatted a laughing Margo’s arm. “You have problems. Serious problems.”
Her friend’s laugh turned into a cackle. “Come on. I’ve been married to the same man for more than a decade. Give me something to live vicariously through.”
“Please. I’ve seen the way your husband drools whenever you’re around. You probably have a better sex life than most honeymooners.”
Margo’s eyes went dreamy. “Yeah. We really do.”
After that, the conversation shifted from Talia’s issues to Margo’s family—thank God. They chatted for another twenty minutes before Margo ushered Talia out the door and to her car with strict orders to send a picture of her outfit for approval before heading to the barbecue.
That wasn’t going to happen.
She’d find something sensible and modest to wear that wouldn’t draw unprofessional attention.
But as she stood in her closet an hour later, she couldn’t help but remember the feel of Pulse pressed against her last weekend. His heat, scent, and those eyes Margo correctly described as smoldering. Before she knew it, she found herself reaching for the pair of denim shorts Margo claimed made her ass look like a snack and a hunter-green ribbed tank that fit her like a second skin. Nothing fancy or flashy, but tight enough to be considered sexy.
Hopefully .