Chapter 7
SIX DAYS LATER
It was by some miracle I managed to go five days without seeing him.
Saturday night, I drove home, locked myself inside, and headed straight for the bathroom. I drew myself a hot bath, turned on my audiobook, and submerged myself in a desperate attempt to feel weightless—to float away from it all.
The mistakes I’d made.
The trauma I’d endured.
The demons I knew would haunt me forever.
For the first time in six years, I thought about calling out sick for my Sunday shift—but I didn’t go through with it. I might have embarrassed myself the night I ran out on Twister, but I wasn’t going to be a little bitch about it. Especially not at Mustang’s expense.
Fact of the matter was, it had been my fault.
I’d gone into that house. I’d taken off all my clothes.
I let him think he had access to me in a way he didn’t.
We were done. There was no question about it.
He was going to be my first and last Stallion.
It was only meant to be one night.
I was the one who went and fucked it all up.
Whatever consequences came about as a result, I was going to have to handle them like a grown ass woman.
Except, Sunday night—he was a no show.
I didn’t see him Monday or Tuesday because the bar was closed, and he didn’t know where I lived. We never exchanged phone numbers, so he hadn’t called me demanding an explanation, either.
Not that he was going to get one.
It was now blatantly obvious I didn’t let anyone put me on my back, and that was all the explanation he was going to get.
When he didn’t step foot into the bar Wednesday or Thursday night, I couldn’t help but to get a little curious. He didn’t seem the type to let this sort of thing go. After one night together, he sought me out. Not once, but twice—and that was before the date.
His avoidance of me didn’t add up.
I wanted to ask Rodeo if the VP was out on club business, but so far as I was aware, no one knew about us. The last thing I wanted to do was draw attention to something that was over before it even began.
So, I waited. I waited, and I tried not to read into his actions—or the lack thereof.
But I knew the silence wouldn’t last forever.
At some point, he was going to walk through those doors.
What he would say to me, I couldn’t guess.
Best case scenario, he’d order a beer, and we’d both pretend nothing happened.
But I knew better than to hope for the best-case scenario.
A pair of our Friday night regulars strolled in and caught my eye.
They were an older couple, maybe in their late sixties, and they rode in whenever the weather was nice.
They lived forty minutes outside of Gillette, in the tiny town of Pine Haven.
They weren’t affiliated with any club, they simply liked to ride.
The vibe of the bar made them feel part of something.
It’s why I liked them so much. We understood each other, even if we didn’t know one another.
Like always, Betty found them a place to sit out on the floor while Richard came up to the bar to order their first round.
“Jack and coke with a vodka soda?” I called out before he could.
“You got it, darlin’,” he confirmed with a smile and a nod.
“Comin’ right up.”
I’d just delivered both drinks when my phone began to vibrate from inside the back pocket of my jeans.
I turned my back to our patrons and extracted the device, not at all surprised to see Georgia was calling.
Again. It was getting beyond ridiculous.
She’d left a dozen messages, all of them the same.
‘You can’t ignore me forever, Ali-Mae,’ she said. ‘I’m your mother.’
As if I needed reminding.
“Hey, you good?” asked Mustang, nudging me with his elbow.
I was quick to ignore the call, shoving my phone back into my pocket as I smiled up at him. “Dandy,” was my reply.
“I’m gonna get us more ice. Can you handle those two?” he asked, jerking his chin toward the opposite end of the bar.
“On it,” I said, already headed that way.
Like it was just about every Friday, we were busy. Mustang had two opening acts and a headliner that night—the headliner a band he’d discovered at Sturgis a couple of years ago. They were a crowd favorite who came around as often as Mustang could book them, which was once every month or so.
It was one A.M. when they wrapped up their set, but the bar was still full of Stallions at last call. Rodeo and Buck managed to clear the room, and I knew the party would continue at the clubhouse.
I wondered if Twister was there—waiting for his brothers with open arms.
Or maybe he’s busy fucking Lyla.
I was in the middle of closing out the till when the thought crossed my mind. It totally ruined my concentration, and I had to backtrack in order to make sure I got all the numbers right.
Get a grip, Phoenix.
It was time to go home. I was being irrational.
Where Twister decided to sink his dick was not my concern.
Never had been. Never would be.
Mustang let Buck and Rodeo head out at a quarter to three, and he and I were soon to follow.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, boss-man,” I said with a wave as he headed for his hog.
“Get home safe.”
“Always do.”
Just like the first time—I was fishing my keys out of my purse when I saw him, leaning against the driver’s side door of my Bronco. My step faltered as my stomach knotted itself at the mere sight of him.
Much as I knew this moment would come, I suddenly didn’t feel ready for it.
Looks like he’s not busy fuckin’ Lyla, after all .
I twisted my neck, mentally kicking myself for the intrusive thought. I then palmed my keys tightly in my hand, focusing my attention on the pinch of the metal digging into my skin as I closed the distance between Twister and me.
I didn’t say anything as I came to a stop beside him.
He didn’t move—his arms folded across his chest; his feet crossed at his ankles. He merely looked down at me and said, “Gave you a week. It’s time to talk about it.”
I shook my head and offered him a shrug. “There’s nothin’ to talk about. You and me, we’re done,” I said, relieved to have finally put it out there.
“Bullshit, baby,” he muttered calmly.
“It’s like I told you—you’re wastin’ your time.”
“Funny you should say that,” he began, finally pushing himself straight. He unfolded his arms and reasoned, “You keep tellin’ me I’m wastin’ my time, but you keep givin’ me yours. Quit actin’ like this is one-sided.”
I reared my head back, caught off guard by what he said. “Twister?—”
“Who did it?” he interrupted, taking a step closer.
I craned my neck in order to glare up at him as I snapped, “Did what?”
“Who hurt you, baby? Who robbed you of the freedom to have your world rocked on your back?”
There was something about the way he said it—the tone of his voice, the look on his face, it triggered something inside of me I didn’t even know existed, and I felt the burn of tears threatening directly behind my nose.
The urge to cry pissed me right the hell off.
“No,” I seethed, grabbing hold of my anger in an effort to ignore the way my lungs seemed to be collapsing under the weight of my demons and the devil within. “No, we’re not doing this. We’re not having this conversation. You need to leave.”
“Phoenix—”
It was my turn to take a step closer. Even though he had me by almost a foot, I jabbed my finger in his chest and declared, “Fucking you once was enough. Fucking you twice was a mistake. Third time was a fucking wake-up call. Now, get out of my way!”
He didn’t budge.
“I’m not a threat, and you know it. You feel it, too—the spark. The heat. Whatever this wild thing is between us, it’s real. Look me in the eye and tell me I’m wrong.”
That burning sensation behind my nose intensified, and I did my damnedest to ignore it as I replied through gritted teeth, “You’re wrong .”
Before I could fully register what was happening, his hands were around my face—his hold gentler than I imagined him capable. Then I blinked, and his mouth was on mine—but his kiss wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t gentle at all.
He pried my mouth open with his tongue and kissed me with a hunger that spoke directly to mine.
Knowing this would be the last time, I couldn’t help it.
I pressed myself up onto my tiptoes, tangled my tongue with his, and took every bit he had to offer.
His affection seemed to chase away my demons.
Soon, my inability to breathe had little to do with the past that would haunt me forever and everything to do with the Stallion swallowing me whole.
Our kiss was wet and desperate and sloppy, and I felt my arousal begin to pool at my core as my sex pulsed with a longing I knew I’d never be able to satisfy. Not now. Not anymore.
Twister’s fingers moved away from my face, sliding into my hair. He kissed me deeper as he clenched my wavy mane into his fists. I did my best to memorize every second—every sensation—hoping to remember what it felt like to be kissed by a man who thought I was worth far more than I was.
Then, as suddenly as it began, it was over.
Twister lifted his mouth away from mine and stared down at me as we both worked to catch our breath. I felt his grip tighten in my hair a second before he let me go. I didn’t realize an unauthorized tear had escaped until Twister brushed it away with a single bent knuckle.
“Like I said. Bullshit,” he muttered.
With no further argument, he then turned and walked away.
I merely stood there, staring after his retreating figure.
It was as if he’d poured concrete around my feet.
Much as I wanted to run, I couldn’t move.
It had been years since my need to flee blared like a warning in my head. It was so familiar a feeling, it seemed impossible I’d nearly forgotten the pain of it. The shock of remembrance was overwhelming.
Steel Mustang was the best gig I’d ever had.
It earned me a livelihood I had no desire to give up.
More than that, it gave me the freedom to make a home for myself.
Someplace safe. Someplace sacred. Someplace that was mine.
I’d worked too hard, and I’d endured too much to let one mistake drive me away before my time.
Yet, it couldn’t be denied, Twister had been one colossal mistake that made everything feel unbalanced. Unstable. He made me question myself in ways I hadn’t in a long time.
I knew, after that first night, when I started dreaming about the bastard, I’d crossed a line—broken a boundary I knew better than to break.
I thought I could control it. Control him.
Contain the mess—but, instead, it seemed to have grabbed hold of me, exposing a weakness I needed to overcome. And fast.