Four
4
Salem
Present Day
A biker.
He was a biker.
The anniversary of my husband’s death, and I saw him for the first time in eighteen years.
And he was a biker.
With a girlfriend who had ginormous boobs, fake lashes, and too much makeup. Okay, fine, she was hot. If you liked the blatantly obvious sex-appeal thing. Why did I care?
Eighteen years, Salem. You are an adult. You’ve lived another life since you saw him last.
Dropping my gaze to my drink, I broke eye contact because he clearly wasn’t going to. I should leave. Pay my tab and go. The evening had just taken a turn I’d have never seen coming, and I wasn’t in need of a venture down memory lane.
The crowd applauded as the band finished a set and said they’d be back in twenty minutes. I looked up, purposefully not letting my eyes go anywhere near Rome Bower, and searched for a waitress instead. Any waitress, a busboy, someone. Maybe I could leave two hundred-dollar bills on the table and escape.
No. There was no way it would be that much, and I couldn’t throw money around like that. This trip had cost me more than I had budgeted for. The life insurance and small savings that Eamon had left behind, I’d put it into mutual funds, not wanting to touch it. The idea that I had been given money because my husband was dead bothered me. I just…I just felt guilty.
Like his mother had pointed out more than once in our marriage, we didn’t have any children. He’d had life insurance in case he left me behind with kids to raise. But there was none. Her biggest gripe she harped on about was that there was no son to pass on the family name. Not for a lack of trying though. I’d wanted a baby. I’d lost three, two with Eamon and one with…
I glanced over at him again, unable to stop myself. The brunette was perched on one of his thighs, and her arm was draped around his shoulders while she talked to the attractive woman tucked close to Mr. Drop-Dead Gorgeous. Rome lifted a bottle of beer to his lips and took a long pull. I could see his throat muscles working from here. His attention didn’t seem to be on anything as he stared straight ahead.
Was he thinking about the past? Or had he recognized me? I wasn’t nineteen anymore. I thought he’d recognized me, but maybe not. I mean, after eighteen years, shouldn’t we be able to greet each other? Acknowledge that we had once been…connected, two parts that made a whole, a family. God, I didn’t even know what to call what we had been.
Back then, I had thought he was my forever. Then he shattered me in a way that it took years for me to recover. Even after my marriage, I was still damaged. Holding myself back. Not able to give Eamon my heart completely. Rome had broken it beyond repair and walked away with my soul.
But I had been young and foolish. I was way beyond that romanticism and belief in fairy tales. I knew what a real relationship consisted of, and the volcanic emotions that Rome had stirred in me were not made for sturdy foundations.
The brunette was smiling wide as she looked down at Rome like he was her sun. God, did I know that feeling.
Shaking my head, I swung my attention away from that scene and back to finding a waitress. Pepper Abe was headed in this direction with another cocktail, but she’d have to give that to someone else if it was for me.
I envied Pepper’s confident stride. I wished I had a sway to my hips like that when I walked. Instead of always feeling self-conscious. She looked at the half-finished glass in front of me, then at my credit card in my hand, and she cocked an eyebrow, as if to ask where I thought I was going.
Sorry, Pepper, I am getting the hell away from my past. That’s where I’m going.
What were the freaking odds? Florida was a big state. How had Rome ended up down here in Miami? The biker thing did make sense. He’d been obsessed with motorcycles back then, spending hours working on that old Harley he’d bought. Come to think of it, I was pretty sure I’d heard his boss—the owner of the Harley repair shop he’d worked at in Ocala back then—mention being in an MC club. That was a four-and-a-half-hour drive north. That would probably be another club. Maybe Rome had moved down here for this club or a bigger bike shop to work at. I didn’t know. I knew nothing about Rome now when, once, I’d known everything about him.
“You trying to leave already? We just got started,” Pepper said, placing the new cocktail in front of me. “This one is a favorite, but only Regina can make it right. She just got here, or I’d have brought you one earlier.”
The pink cocktail looked like it had silver sugar around the rim. I was sure it was delicious, but I couldn’t enjoy it. Not with Rome and the woman he’d stolen from a stripper pole wrapped around his body.
Ugh. I was being snarky again.
Stop it, Salem. Stop. It.
I managed the best attempt at a smile that I could. “I need to go. Maybe next time,” I told her as I glanced at Rome without meaning to. I wasn’t sure what to blame it on. Saying it was curiosity seemed lame when my heart hadn’t stopped racing since spotting him.
Snapping my attention back to Pepper, I held out my credit card and pulled the strap of my purse onto my shoulder, ready to stand up. I needed to use the restroom before leaving, and it would get Rome out of my line of sight.
“I’m just going to head to the restroom while you take that,” I explained.
Pepper was studying me. “You aren’t leaving because they all came in, are you? I know they look, uh”—she glanced back at them—“dangerous, I guess, but I swear they aren’t. The blond one with the brunette he won’t let go of is my brother, Micah. He’s the VP of The Judgment, and I swear to you that nothing will happen to you.”
She pointed at the gorgeous man. Damn, that family had good genes.
I shook my head. “No, that’s not it. I’m tired, and I have the interview in the morning. But this place is great. Thanks so much for your hospitality.” I scanned for the restroom sign, trying not to look in the MC’s direction.
“Restrooms are right back there, behind you,” Pepper said. “And I’m glad you stopped by. I hope we were able to provide you with some distraction. If you end up getting the job and moving here, be sure to come back and see us.”
I nodded. I’d like that, but it wouldn’t be on a night when the MC might show up. Maybe a Monday would be safe. At four in the afternoon.
“Thanks. If I do get the job, The Urban Art Canvas is less than a mile from here. Are you open for lunch?”
“That’s an art gallery, isn’t it? The sky-blue building with the round windows and the columns out front that are covered in graffiti? And, no, we aren’t open until four, but you could always stop by after work.”
“Yes, that’s the one.”
“Well, good luck,” she replied. “I’ll go ring you up.”
When she was headed back toward the bar, I went in the direction she had pointed, finding the sign over the doorway that led down a short hallway with gender-neutral rooms lining it. I went to the second door on the right since it was the only one with a green light above it. The others were all red, so I assumed that meant they were in use.
Stepping into the small, private room, I exhaled and stared at myself in the mirror.
How much had I changed?
Why did I care?
I reached up and touched the smile lines trying to form. Maybe it was time to try Botox. I’d mentioned it once to Eamon, and he’d kissed each side of my mouth, telling me that I wasn’t injecting my beautiful face with poison. He’d loved me unconditionally, and not one day had I deserved him.
I took a lock of my coal-black hair and let it slide over my fingers. It hadn’t changed much. Only shorter and hitting just a few inches below my shoulders. I’d had hair to my waist back then. It wasn’t rolled or styled in any way. Just straight. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d taken time to do more than brush it.
I still didn’t wear much makeup. With my pale complexion, I’d always felt like I resembled a clown when I tried the new trends. Moisturizer, some powder, a little dusting of bronzer, lip gloss, and if I was trying to really dress up, I might add some eyeshadow.
Why was I doing this? It wasn’t as if I could come in here and talk myself into not feeling intimidated by the woman on Rome’s lap. I didn’t want to be. I didn’t want to care. But…I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t imagined seeing him again a million different times in the past eighteen years. This was not the scenario I’d thought up though. Not even in the same ballpark.
For starters, I’d been all fixed up and dressed in something much…well, sexier than this. I glanced down at the Burberry skirt, knee-high black boots, and black turtleneck I was wearing. I looked like the boring thirty-seven-year-old woman I had become. Not some sex goddess who would make Rome regret losing me.
Groaning, I shook my head and turned from the mirror to use the restroom, wash my hands, and leave.
It seemed his taste in women hadn’t changed. Just like the day he’d caused me the most excruciating pain my heart had ever experienced, she’d been my exact opposite. Blonde, massive boobs, fake lashes, lots of makeup, and clothing that barely covered anything. Except that girl had been on her knees with his cock in her mouth.
Finishing up, I tried not to look in the mirror while I washed my hands just so I wouldn’t find any more faults. Eamon had hated it whenever I would point out a flaw about myself. He’d been good for my self-esteem.
We had walked into an event only a year and a half ago that his father’s finance firm was hosting, and he’d leaned down to whisper in my ear, “Do you have any idea what it feels like for me when I enter a room, knowing the woman on my arm is the most ravishing female there?”
I’d blushed. I didn’t agree with him. There were stunning women everywhere. But he’d only ever seemed to see me.
My throat thickened, and tears prickled my eyes. I had to stop thinking about all that. It would only make this day more difficult than it already was.
“It has been eighteen years. You were both still kids. Nothing alike. You have lived other lives, become different people,” I whispered while giving my reflection a scolding frown.
Was it fair that he was still as sexy and rugged as he had been back then? No. But whatever.
I’d found that the bad boys with the charming smiles, dirty mouths, and tattoos weren’t my type after all. He was just the grown version of what he’d started becoming back then.
Turning, I took one more deep breath before leaving the restroom. With my head down to make sure I didn’t miss the small step up in the doorway, I didn’t see if anyone was waiting in line. However, it just so happened that I didn’t need to see. The scent—a combination of tobacco, mint, and the outdoors—assailed me. I knew that your sense of smell had a memory, but in eighteen years, I hadn’t been met with this one.
Until now.
As if he’d commanded it, my head snapped up, and I almost stumbled over the raised flooring as my eyes collided with a set of pale green pools that often still starred in my dreams at night. The instant adrenaline shot at being this close to him sent my heart rate up. I wondered what my Apple watch said it was right now. Ninety beats a minute. Maybe more. Was that dangerous?
His dark brown hair was still long, but now in dreadlocks that he kept tied in a messy almost bun at the nape of his neck. The stubble on his chin looked as if he hadn’t shaved in a week or so, but it wasn’t a full beard. The lips that had once mesmerized me quirked at the corner, as if he were amused. I realized I was studying his face as if he were a piece of art in a museum. I started to raise my eyes back to his when his tongue swiped his bottom lip, and I saw a flash of metal.
My gaze flew back up to meet his.
“You pierced your tongue,” were the first words I blurted to him since he’d come to my dorm room and ended things with me.
I’d been ready to throw things and hit him the moment I saw him after what I caught him doing with that blonde. But he didn’t apologize. He had also made me wait three days before even showing up. It was as if he hadn’t cared at all.
Our last words to each other still echoed in my head.
“You’ll thank me one day,” he said.
“Fuck you, Rome Bower,” I sobbed, then slapped his face before slamming the door.
He never came back. He never called. He never answered my calls.
I’d even left a message at the garage he worked at, saying that I was leaving, that I’d gotten a scholarship for Rhode Island College of Art and Design, starting in the fall. Being the pathetic, lost, and broken little girl I was, I wanted to give him my new address. He never wrote, or showed up. Eventually, I’d stopped waiting for him.
“You got old,” he replied.
Just that easily, I felt like the woman I had seen in the mirror. Eamon’s words were no longer powerful enough to make me see what he had. I wished it didn’t hurt, but Rome might as well have slapped me in the face.
This was nothing like the times I’d imagined it. He wasn’t struck with regret and longing for the girl he’d let go. I wasn’t his one who had gotten away, like I’d always wanted to think. It seemed his words rang true all these years later.
“You’ll thank me one day.”
It was clear he was thankful. Instead of me, he had a gorgeous younger female draped on his lap tonight.
She fit him. I did not. We had grown into two different people. Like daylight and dark.
I cleared my throat, having no witty comeback to his truthful response. He had never been one to hold back. He’d always been blunt.
“That happens,” I replied, then shifted my attention to look out into the bar and toward the booth I’d been using. “I need to go pay my tab. Have a nice evening.”
The words sounded so awkward, considering the circumstances of us. It was odd to see the person you’d once loved with every fiber of your being, only to find they were only someone you used to know.
I did my best to smile before walking past him. I’d break into a run if it wouldn’t cause a scene.
“That’s it?” His husky voice, which had once brought bursts of joy inside me, caused me to pause. “Eighteen fucking years, darlin’, and you’re just gonna tell me that I pierced my tongue?”
I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly, then let it out. I was an adult, not the silly girl who had worshipped him from the first moment he’d sauntered into his mother’s house. Nope. Not anymore. I could do this.
Turning back to him, I smiled and shrugged. “Wasn’t sure how to follow up your comment,” I replied, reaching up to tuck some hair behind my ear nervously.
I was trying not to fidget, but being under his scrutiny made that hard. He’d already said what he thought about how I looked now. I didn’t need him continuing to search out all the ways I had changed.
He smirked and rubbed his chin as he ducked his head like he was trying to keep from laughing. At me? If he laughed at me, I’d run. Bolt out of here. Never to return from the humiliation.
GOD! Why? Why did I care? I shouldn’t give a shit.
He lifted his eyes back to look at me through his dark lashes that were too long to belong on a man. They outlined his striking eyes, making him even more attractive. As if his firm jawline, straight nose, almost-too-wide mouth weren’t enough of a lethal combination.
“Why ya here?” he asked. “In Miami.”
I swallowed hard, then licked my suddenly dry lips. “Job interview.”
He tilted his head to the left just a small fraction of an inch. “Here?” he asked. “Figured you’d live the rest of your life up there with the Yankee you married.”
He knew I’d gotten married? How? It didn’t matter. I wasn’t discussing Eamon with him. And Eamon wasn’t a Yankee. He was Irish.
I’d never been able to tell Eamon about Rome. He had known I’d been hurt badly by a guy, but I couldn’t bring myself to explain. Talk about it. Rome had shattered me, but I still felt as if it would be a betrayal to tell another man about us. What we’d had. Although, looking back, I believed I was the only one who had felt that deeply. My naive young brain had thought he loved me too. I’d held on to that hope all the way to Rhode Island, thinking he’d come for me, that he would show up.
“No, it’s, uh…” What did I say here? I tried to think of the right words, then decided to be vague. “A good opportunity.” And it was. Not any better than the gallery I’d been a curator at in Boston for the past sixteen years, but he didn’t need specifics.
“Thought you were gonna be an artist,” he replied, as if judging me.
“I’m a curator for an art gallery in Boston,” I replied. That should have actually been past tense. I’d left that job last week. “The job here is at an art gallery, but, yes, I do paint. I, uh, mostly do equestrian paintings.”
I was actually becoming sought after in the world of horse breeders and owners, but I wasn’t telling him that. It had started with one piece I’d done after attending a Kentucky Derby with friends of ours. The piece sold almost immediately from the gallery. Then the owner contacted me, wanting to know if I’d come to her stables and do a painting of her horse there. It had slowly begun to grow as friends of hers saw it and wanted ones done of their horses. Those who had champions or retired former champions hired me to capture their horse on canvas.
“You paint horses,” he replied, as if disappointed in me, while he had dreadlocks, a biker club vest on, and a stripper wannabe as a girlfriend.
I dropped my eyes to his left hand, realizing that he could be married, but the only rings on his fingers ranged from a black-and-silver skull, a piece of twisted leather, and one that looked like a chain. His right hand had another skull, but this one was on a cross, and then a round, flat black onyx with what looked like barbed wire over part of it. None, however, were on his ring finger.
“I’m not stupid enough to lock myself down to one cunt. There ain’t a pussy that fucking magical.”
My eyes shot back up to his face. He looked mockingly at me, as if to remind me that my pussy was also included in that. Rome had been my first. Eamon, my second and last.
A tight smile formed on my lips. “I’m glad you got the life you wanted, Rome,” I replied.
His dark chuckle sent chill bumps up my arms. “Come on now, Salem. No one truly gets the life they want.”
Salem. A name he’d rarely ever used. Almost since day one, he’d addressed me as Angel Face.
“Tex,” a female voice called out close behind me.
Rome’s eyes slowly moved from me to look over my shoulder before returning.
“Or maybe you did,” he continued.
Had I? I wanted to believe that Eamon had been it. The life I’d wanted. But even if he hadn’t been, I hadn’t wanted to lose him. We’d planned to grow old together.
“Hey, baby, I was going to get another drink and wanted to know—” The female voice stopped, and a strong perfume hit my nose. Then the woman from his lap strutted past me with a sharp glare as our eyes met. “If you wanted another,” she finished, turning her focus back to Rome.
She’d called him Tex. Why was he going by another name?
His eyes soaked her in as if she were a treat he couldn’t wait to get his hands on. They must be new since he tired of a woman after a while. No magical pussies for him.
“I need to go pay and, uh, leave,” I said in a rushed breath.
If he was going to introduce me, I really would rather pass on that.
The woman slid a possessive hand up and rested it on his chest as her expression became threatening.
Okay. Yeah. Gonna go now. Enjoy him while you have his attention.
Without waiting on him to respond, I turned and walked away. Maybe Miami wasn’t for me after all. Perhaps I should consider a new state. One I’d not been to before. Start fresh.
I noticed Pepper at my booth now, and her eyes went from me to the two behind me in the small hallway. She probably knew them, too, seeing as she was related to the vice president of his club.
I’d smile, pay, and escape.
Never to step foot in here again.