Chapter Two
Jenna
One Week Later
I had a love/hate relationship with the reality of kids in the emergency room. It happened all the time. Often, when we were pulling toys out of orifices or setting bones and sewing stitches after a dare-devil adventure with unfortunate consequences, it wasn’t so bad. The relief parents expressed in a single glance when all was made right was good for the soul.
But this — this was a nightmare.
Not even an hour ago, when I had a moment to spare, I was texting Tess, asking her if we were still on for our monthly Sunday pedicure date. It was our ritual. A mandatory check-in with a bit of self-care. She asked me if I wouldn’t mind if she brought Mustang’s little girl, Mary-Kate, and I honestly couldn’t wait to meet her.
What could be cuter than a four-year-old excited to get her little toenails painted?
Except now, that same four-year-old was fighting the effects of an overdose in my ER.
We’d pumped her stomach, as it had been an unknown amount of edible marijuana she’d consumed, but the doctor and I both suspected the gummies must have been laced with something else. We’d drawn blood in order to test it for other substances, but there wasn’t much more we could do now but wait.
Mary-Kate was breathing.
Her pulse was weak but getting stronger.
Only, she wasn’t waking up.
Until she did, I knew the worry which marred Mustang’s hazel-blue eyes would not clear.
I couldn’t stop myself from staring at him from where I stood on the opposite side of the bed in bay fourteen. I’d barely spent any time with the man, and already I’d seen Mustang as lover, Mustang as Stallion, and now I had a front row seat to Mustang as terrified father.
He was so many things wrapped in a tough exterior—but no matter how hard his shell, nothing prepared a man for nightmares of this caliber. From what I’d gathered, Mary-Kate had been in the care of her mother when this happened.
And said mother was not who stood by his side at present.
That told me just about everything I needed to know.
“We’re going to get her admitted,” I assured them, hugging my tablet against my chest. “We’ll move her to the pediatrics clinic just as soon as we can sort out a bed.”
Movement I sensed out of the corner of my eye toward the ER’s entrance caught my attention, and I glanced that way.
Four men in leather vests and a single woman were headed toward us.
One of them was an older looking man. He had cropped, salt-and-pepper hair—more salt than pepper—and a hard, handsome face adorned with a long beard and a mustache he curled at the ends.
One of them was the guy with the biker ‘stache I remembered from Steel Mustang. In the light of day, I noted his shoulder-length hair and his thick eyebrows—currently furrowed.
One of them was a big, menacing man with a thick, russet beard and overgrown wavy hair to match.
And one of them was Maverick .
Unlike the night I’d met him, his curls were pulled up into a top knot, revealing the buzzed sides of his head.
Bewilderingly, the sight of him seemed to awaken a forgotten butterfly in my stomach.
I hadn’t seen or heard from him in three weeks.
Not that I expected to hear from him. Not after how we’d parted.
And not that I wanted to hear from him.
It was the kiss, not so much the man, I couldn’t seem to forget.
It was the memory of the kiss which awakened the butterfly.
Or, so I told myself.
In any case, I smothered the feeling, choosing to focus on the matter at hand, and continued, “You and Tess can stay with her, but we’ll have to ask your friends to stay in the waiting room.”
“Stay,” said Mustang.
I shifted my focus across the bed just in time to watch him press a kiss into Tess's hair.
“I’ll talk to them.”
“Are you sure? I can—”
“Stay, baby,” he semi-repeated.
Before he left, he reached out, gently grazing his tattooed knuckles over one of Mary-Kate’s pale cheeks.
“Daddy’ll be right back, princess.”
His words pierced me straight through the heart, and I had to fight the urge to make this personal. It was imperative I remain objective, no matter how much I loved Tess. I was the professional in this situation, and both of them needed me to remain that way.
Tess and I watched as Mustang interceded his friends. The woman in the group, a gorgeous, slightly older platinum blonde, gave his hand a squeeze before continuing our way. She’d walked in with a bunch of bikers, but she didn’t look like one of them—dressed in a pair of fitted blue jeans and a ruffled, beige blouse. She wrapped Tess in a tight embrace as soon as she was in reaching distance.
“How’s our girl doing?” she asked as she released Tess and reached for Mary-Kate’s limp hand.
“Stable and fighting,” I answered.
“Winnie, this is my best friend, Jenna.”
Winnie looked over at me with her dark blue eyes, offering a small, hopeful smile. “I trust that means MK is in the best possible hands.”
“I can assure you we’re doing everything we can.” Looking to Tess, I added, “I’ll be back in a little bit. I’m just over there if you need anything.”
“Thanks,” she murmured with a nod.
On a sigh, I headed for the nurse’s station. If there was a sliver of a bright spot in the afternoon, it was the fact that we hadn’t been swamped, allowing me the opportunity to show a bit of extra attention to my friends. We also had the benefit of being fully staffed, which meant twenty-two nurses on the floor—a rarity, as we were usually understaffed by at least two or three. Sometimes more.
Our ER was shaped like a rectangle, the nurses’ station an oval, with an opening on each end, located at the center of it. I set aside my tablet and was reaching up to pull out my hair tie in order to redo my drooping ponytail when Abbie caught my attention.
“What I wouldn’t give for a single night with one of them.”
I turned in the direction of her voice. She was sitting in front of a computer, her work temporarily forgotten as she stared at the Stallions who were making their way outside.
“Pardon?” I replied.
She spun in her chair and smiled at me. Among the youngest on staff, she was barely twenty-four years old. Nearly a decade younger than my thirty-three years, she still had that youthful glow to her skin. She routinely wore her long, blonde hair in two French braids, and her light application of makeup usually consisted of soft pinks and browns, further accentuating her natural beauty.
All that to say, I wasn’t sure I’d heard her correctly.
Until she flashed that coy grin.
“Don’t get me wrong. They are totally scary, and I wouldn’t dream of dating one, but I have no doubt any one of them would be a wild ride.”
Against my permission, Maverick’s voice echoed loudly in my head.
'Babe, I can guarantee I’m a hell of a better time than that punk-ass bitch.'
I purposefully avoided casting my gaze toward the door.
I didn’t want to remember that I’d had my chance at a wild ride—a chance I declined.
Neither did I want to remember the best kiss I’d ever had.
In fact, it had taken me longer than I wanted to admit to put it out of my mind.
I hadn’t had sex in more than a year. Most days, I was too busy to think about it. For all those times when I wasn’t busy, the idea of dating in order to find someone to scratch that itch was the fastest way to turn me off.
Dating these days was so overrated.
Except—three weeks ago, a single kiss had ignited a need I knew I could only address one way. I wasn’t a fan of seeking that sort of release on my own. There was something about self-gratification that left me feeling incredibly lonely, and it wasn’t worth the single moment of pleasure.
I was going to have to seriously consider casting my net in the dating pool again.
But that was a problem for another day.
This one was already full.
“Come on, you can’t tell me I’m wrong,” goaded Abbie.
I finger-combed my hair up and away from my face as I replied, “You’re right.” I paused, remembering a conversation I’d had with Tess after she’d spent that first night with her man. “I’m certain they are a thrilling good time. Just don’t go chasing the one they call Mustang. He’s taken.”
'Babe, I can guarantee I’m a hell of a better time than that punk-ass bitch.'
I returned to my tablet, refusing to warn her away from Maverick.
He hadn’t called.
Not that I’d expected him to.
He was totally up for grabs.
It took a couple of hours for the pediatric clinic to sort out a bed for Mary-Kate. They’d just assigned her a room when Tess had to leave, Winnie her ride back to her car so she could start her Friday night shift. She hated to go but, like I knew better than most, duty called.
Before she left, she made me promise I’d check in with any updates.
Not that she needed to ask. Even with Mary-Kate no longer in the ER, I’d planned on keeping tabs on her.
The waiting room that evening saw more bikers in and out than I’d ever seen. Remarkably, we didn’t get much of their kind rushing through our doors seeking aid. I wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that it was a little girl who beckoned them now. It was sweet—if I could assign such an adjective to a bunch of tough guys.
I was finishing with a patient when I saw the police and Child Protective Services arrive. Of course, I wasn’t surprised by their presence. We’d found the edibles Mary-Kate consumed were laced with LSD. Yet, even without that knowledge, when a kid overdosed on recreational drugs, it was only a matter of time before the authorities showed.
What surprised me was how quickly they were in and out of the building. I wasn’t even sure if they’d gone to speak with Mustang. The man with the salt-and-pepper hair and the matching beard saw them from the waiting room and waved them in. It was obvious, by the number of patches he had sewn onto his vest, he was kind of a big deal. But that still didn’t explain what happened next.
After a brief conversation and a handshake, the authorities were gone.
It didn’t make any sense.
Then again, it wasn’t the first time a Stallion incident had resulted in very little police activity.
Lance Jones was the name of the man Mustang had beaten unconscious. Turned out, he’d arrived at the hospital with a concussion, a broken nose, and three broken ribs. Fortunately, all of his organs were fine. He had no internal or cranial bleeding.
Yet, even in his battered state, when the police showed up asking questions, he refused to speak. Part of me thought it was because if he told the whole truth, he’d have to start with why he’d been attacked. But I wasn’t sure that explained it all away. Especially after I witnessed the handshake between a Stallion and CPS.
Questionable as it seemed, it wasn’t lost on me that in the hours Mary-Kate had been in the hospital, I hadn’t seen or heard her mother arrive, demanding to see her daughter. Mustang was the parent who had barely left her side. His little girl was with whom she belonged, and I found comfort in that.
“Hey…”
I looked up from the chart I was completing inside the nurses’ station. Conrad, a fellow nurse, walked toward me, his tablet tucked underneath his arm. We’d been in the trenches together for a few years now. He was still young at twenty-nine, but his soul was no younger than seventy-two.
We didn’t have a ton of male nurses, and I always found him to be a refreshing dose of testosterone in the ER. Of course, we had mostly male doctors—but they were more ego than anything else. Conrad was one of the best of us with remarkable bedside manner. He was a couple inches taller than me with dark hair, a well-trimmed beard, and pretty pale blue eyes.
He stopped on the opposite side of the desk and nodded behind me.
“Is it me, or is that guy staring at you?”
I turned to look over my shoulder and more than a few butterflies fluttered to life inside my stomach.
I really wished they would stop doing that.
Nonetheless, Maverick was standing outside the hospital doors—legs spread wide, tattooed arms folded across his chest, his gaze aimed right at me. The sun was starting to set, and he was illuminated by the lights in the awning above him. It was hard not to notice the natural copper highlights hidden in his otherwise bronzy-brown curls.
“Yup,” I muttered as I watched the corner of his mouth lift in a crooked smile.
That smirk was him beckoning me. I just knew it.
I turned to look at Conrad, willing my heart rate to remain even-keeled as I made up my mind to go talk to him. He’d left hours ago. Not that I was keeping tabs of the bikers in and out of the waiting room. I merely noticed I hadn’t seen him since he’d walked out with Abbie ogling him and his companions. If he was back and he wanted a word, I didn’t see a good reason to deny him.
“Cover me for a minute?”
Conrad lifted his eyebrows in surprise.
“You know him?”
“I do. Long story.”
This time it was Conrad who flashed me a lopsided smile full of meaning.
I ignored what that curve of his lips was asking for and turned to make my way outside.
Three weeks ago, when I walked into Steel Mustang, I’d been dressed for a night out. A light touch of makeup, freshly washed hair, a spritz of perfume—the whole shebang. As I exited the ER, I was very aware that my hair hadn’t been washed in two days, I had on nothing but a touch of mascara, and while I was wearing my favorite pair of blue scrubs, with the jogger style bottoms, I was not at all dressed to impress.
Not that I needed to impress Maverick.
He wasn’t my type, and I wasn’t waiting for his call.
I really wasn’t. It was just the kiss I couldn’t forget.
When I thought I was close enough, I stopped and looked up at him with a smile.
Up being the operative word.
In my sneakers, he was a good eight or nine inches taller than me.
“Hi.”
“Hey. How’s MK?”
There it was again. A tough-guy biker being sweet.
“She’s okay. Her vitals are stable and strong. We’re still just waiting for her to wake up.” Hooking my thumb over my shoulder, I added, “Visiting hours are still going. Guys have been stepping in one at a time. You’re more than welcome.”
“Can’t stay,” he replied with a single shake of his head. “Just droppin’ by. Got tired of waitin’ on you to call, so here I am.”
My jaw fell open of its own accord. Before I could think twice about it, I said, “You were waiting on me to call you? You’re the one who gave yourself my number.”
His lips spread into a grin, and that tightness in my chest I’d felt the other night came back.
He wasn’t my type, and I was sure there were a number of boxes on my list he would never check—but I couldn’t deny, he had a downright charming smile.
“So, you were waitin’ on me to call.”
“Wh—no. That’s not what I meant,” I stammered, trying to get my wits about me.
“You work tomorrow night?”
I knit my eyebrows together as I asked, “Why?”
“Takin’ you out, that’s why.”
My revived butterflies fluttered as the memory of his fingers in my hair and his tongue sweeping through my mouth rushed to the front of my mind.
I blinked and shook my head, forcing myself to remember the rest of the events that happened that night. Mustang throwing punches. Maverick refusing to let me call an ambulance.
The man in front of me was a great kisser, but he was covered in tattoos with hair longer than mine. He was in a motorcycle club, which—among many things—meant he rode a motorcycle; and given his manbun, I was sure he rode without a helmet.
A rebel was not on the list of qualities I was looking for in a man.
In spite of my body’s reaction to him—my body that was undeniably sexually famished—I had seriously not been waiting on his call.
“I’m sorry. That’s not going to happen,” I told him gently.
“You gotta work?” he asked, dropping his arms to his sides as he took a step toward me. “How ‘bout Sunday? Got shit goin’ down, but I should be free to grub.”
I wondered what it meant when he said, ' got shit goin’ down ,' but I didn’t ask.
It didn’t matter.
We weren’t going out Sunday, either.
“No, I—I mean I can’t go out with you,” I clarified.
He quirked an eyebrow at me. “Can’t or won’t?”
“Maverick—”
“Are you gonna stand there and tell me you weren’t flirtin’ with me the other night?”
I grimaced. He wasn’t making this easy.
“I’m sorry if I sent the wrong message, but—”
“The wrong message?” he interrupted again. He was frowning at me when he noted, “Babe, you kissed me back.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Flustered by the memory, I clenched and unclenched my fingers at my sides as I explained, “Look, I was there for Tess. I was there to meet Mustang. But that place is not my scene. Guys in motorcycle clubs aren’t my type. I was making the best of it, but I—”
“Making the best of it?”
His frown deepened into a scowl, my clue that I’d struck a nerve.
“So, you kiss like a fuckin’ goddess, but really you’re a self-righteous barbie. And here I thought, Tess callin’ you her best friend, you might have been worth the effort.”
I sucked in a gasp, returning his scowl with one of my own.
I couldn’t even revel in the fact that he thought I kissed like a goddess, too hung up on the other part.
“I’m not a self-righteous barbie!”
“You held onto me and leaned in. That’s more than makin’ the best of it, let’s get that straight,” he said, bending at the waist to bring his face closer to mine. “You don’t even know me, and now you’re tellin’ me you’ve already made up your mind about who I am based on the kutte I wear on my back. Seein’ as that bar is not your scene, you can’t claim to know shit about who we are and what we stand for. So, foxy lady, I guess that makes this your loss, not mine.”
Before I could think of a response, he gave me his back as he strode toward the parking lot.
“Wait,” I called after him. Rather than the fluttering of butterflies, my stomach suddenly felt sick with a panic I didn’t understand. “Maverick!”
He ignored me, and I was left to stare at the kutte on his back.
I’d seen quite a few of them that day, all of them the same. There were three patches sewn onto the leather. The top identified him as a Wild Stallion. Their emblem—the metal stallion skull with the fiery mane—took up the center of the vest. Below it, there was a location identifier for Wyoming. Whether or not there were other Stallions in other states, I didn’t know.
I continued to stare at his retreating figure. I wasn’t quite sure how it was possible—given his size, stature, and overall tough guy persona—but it seemed I’d offended him with my rejection.
Except, instead of feeling relieved to have him out of my hair, I felt bad and confused.
I’m not a self-righteous barbie…am I? I wondered.
No one had ever said something like that to me before.
Tess always told me I was picky, but I didn’t think I was judgmental.
Was I?
He hadn’t been entirely wrong. I didn’t know him.
Except, that didn’t mean I wasn’t right, either.
He implied I made assumptions about who he was based on his kutte , but wasn’t that why they wore them? To send a message?
The sound of a distant ambulance approaching forced me out of my head. I lost sight of Maverick, but I didn’t have time to give him anymore of my focus. Whatever was coming required my full attention.
That was life in the ER.
There wasn’t time to mull over anything.
I jogged back into the hospital and got back to work.
It was a quarter after six the following morning. I knew Tess would be back any moment, so I stood leaning against the outer rim of the nurses’ station, sipping absentmindedly at the stale coffee I’d poured myself from the break room carafe.
Left alone with my thoughts, I couldn’t help but to replay my exchange with Maverick.
I wasn’t the kind of woman who felt bad every time I turned down a guy who was interested in me. Tess teased me about it, but I was a bit of a heartbreaker. I didn’t do it maliciously. I simply didn’t see the point in wasting anyone’s time if I didn’t think a lasting relationship was going to be the end result.
Truth of the matter was, I’d been with the perfect guy once. Back when I was in college, I’d given Brian two years of my life. I was ready to give him forever. I thought he was ready for the same. But when it came time for us to graduate, rather than propose, he completely blindsided me with a breakup.
To say I was devastated was a massive understatement. It took me ages to get over him.
After I did, I eventually found I was actually a little grateful to him.
He’d given me a blueprint for the perfect guy.
Except the part where he broke up with me—but that was beside the point.
The point was, I knew what I was looking for. I had a checklist in my head.
Granted, it had been almost twelve years, and I hadn’t found a man who could check all my boxes, but I didn’t want to settle. I didn’t think any woman should. Forever was a long time to spend with someone.
Except, I couldn’t get what Maverick said out of my head.
I was looking for the ideal, but I hadn’t assumed the package in which he was wrapped would be identical to Brian. Not to mention, he didn’t have to check all of my boxes, just most of them. And I was mature enough to admit, there were guys out there who might surprise me in a good way and check a couple boxes I hadn’t thought of, if I gave him the chance.
I couldn’t explain why, but what Maverick said made me second guess whether I was as open-minded as I thought. I was under no illusion Maverick was the one —but he was right in that I hadn’t given him a shot. I hadn’t been open to exploring whether or not he checked any boxes.
'So, you kiss like a fuckin’ goddess, but really you’re a self-righteous barbie.'
He’d felt it, too. The magic of that kiss.
Perhaps that was why I couldn’t brush off what he said.
The longer I thought about it, the more I realized, I didn’t have a legitimate reason to reject him. Unless I really was a self-righteous barbie who believed his allegiance to the Stallions and his overall tough-guy appearance made him unworthy of a real date.
I didn’t want that to be true of me. I didn’t want to be a woman who used him as a distraction for a night. I wasn’t pretending at Steel Mustang. I enjoyed his company and the way he made me laugh.
And that kiss—he was right about that too.
When I held on and leaned in, it shifted the dynamic between us. He might have been a tough guy, but he was still just as human as I was underneath the surface.
“Tell me you get to go home soon,” said Tess, pulling me from my thoughts.
I shook my head clear and spotted her as she headed my way.
“Uh, yeah. I’m actually already off the clock. I knew you’d be in soon, and I wanted to see you before I left.”
Setting aside my coffee, I helped close the distance between us, my arms open in invitation. Tess accepted, returning my embrace with a tight squeeze.
“Thanks,” she breathed.
I could hear her exhaustion in that one word.
I felt much the same.
“I stopped by as often as I could throughout the night,” I told her as I let her go. “I have to say: when I told you I couldn’t wait to meet Mary-Kate, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
“Yeah, no shit,” she muttered, raking her fingers through her hair.
“Tess, I’ve seen a lot of things come in and out of this hospital, but I’ve never seen so many bikers show up, and all for a little girl.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” she said, speaking through a tired smile. “They’re badasses, but they are each other’s family. In Mustang’s case, his only family. I’m glad to know he wasn’t alone after I left.”
'You can’t claim to know shit about who we are and what we stand for…'
What she said made Maverick’s earlier comment hit me even more forcefully than before.
Yet, still unsure I could totally discard any apprehension, I reminded myself there were two sides to this coin.
“So, the part about them being badasses?” I took Tess by the elbow, gently tugging her further away from the nurses’ station. In a hushed voice, I filled her in on what happened with the police and CPS. I stressed my concern that it didn’t add up. These things didn’t disappear with a handshake. Not in the real world.
Except, as she stared back at me, I saw nothing but acceptance in her eyes.
“I know we’re both exhausted; but, honey, you don’t look at all surprised by this,” I murmured.
She sighed before she replied, “Look, I’ve met Mary-Kate’s mom. Well, sort of. What I mean to say is, when Mary-Kate is with Mustang, she eats up his attention and his affection like she’s starved for it. I don’t have to be a social worker to see Trix isn’t going to be nominated for mother of the year. What happened yesterday was awful but not altogether shocking. If CPS is going to revoke her parental rights, good. Whatever handshakes were exchanged were not in vain. The safest place Mary-Kate could ever be is with Mustang.”
I nodded, folding my arms across my chest. I didn’t know much about the situation, but I knew what I’d witnessed since they’d arrived at the hospital the previous afternoon.
“That I believe. He hasn’t left her side. I don’t think he’s slept, either. In spite of our reassurances that she appears to just be sleeping it off, he’s as worried now as he was when you first showed up.”
“I should go check on him.”
“Hey,” I said softly before she could go. “He’s a badass, and I wouldn’t want any of my friends to go up against him in a fist fight, but I can see he’s a good man underneath that leather vest.”
“He is,” she agreed on a whisper.
“Text me when she wakes up?” Tess nodded, and I smiled as I added, “We’ll reschedule that pedicure for when she’s all better.”
“Absolutely.”
We hugged each other goodbye, Tess headed for the pediatric clinic while I gathered my things and headed for my car.
As I went, I thought about Mustang.
I meant what I told Tess. Her man was certainly multifaceted. He could be scary, but he was also incredibly attentive. I’d seen him at very distinct moments. If the first time I met him was in the parking lot at his bar, I would be terrified of him—but he was more than that single moment. He was more than that man.
I knew the same was true of Maverick.
He was more than I’d given him credit for.
I closed myself behind the steering wheel, discarding my purse in the seat beside me. I felt like I owed it to him to say yes to a date. I also thought I kind of owed it to myself. If for no other reason, than to prove I wasn’t close-minded or judgmental. Moreover, I’d already admitted to myself it was time to put myself out there again. It was one date. It could be the beginning of my next chapter.
Granted, it was entirely possible I’d ruined my chances to use a date with Maverick to kick off said chapter—but that didn’t mean it wasn’t worth a try.
I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my list of recent calls. When I found the unsaved number dialed on Saturday night three weeks ago, I added it to my contacts and started a text thread.
I’m free tonight. I can be ready by seven. If you’re still interested, just tell me where to meet you and I’ll be there.
I didn’t second guess myself.
I hit send, tossed my phone back into my purse, and started for home.