One month later
Gripping the steering wheel, I stared at Manic’s house and chewed my lip.
I’d never been here before. I’d been invited, though, multiple times.
He’d moved out of the apartment above Rocktown Ink several weeks ago, wanting more room so he could work on his bike, according to Lila. Which made sense, since he was here in Rocktown more often now, working more hours at the shop here. It started as him helping out while Cal—the owner of the popular tattoo shop and the husband of one of my closest friends—was busy at their ranch, and it ended with Manic staying on.
I gripped the wheel tighter, still feeling shaky after the panic attack I’d had earlier that day. I bit my lip. There were several bikes parked out front. I really was hoping I’d catch him here alone. My nerves grew. What I wanted to do was turn around and go home. I didn’t need an audience for this, but it’d taken all my courage to come here now, and I was afraid if I left, I’d never find the guts to do this again.
And I needed to do this.
Don’t think about it, just do it.
I’d met most of Manic’s brothers at club parties. If anything, their being here took the pressure off, right?
“Just do it,” I muttered to myself and shoved the door open. Straightening my skirt, I started along the path.
I heard music as I reached the front door. Taking a steadying breath, I knocked.
I hadn’t talked to Manic in person since that night in the apartment above Rocktown Ink. He’d called and texted me, though, multiple times a week—for three weeks. I hadn’t picked up.
Cooking steaks tonight, come by.
Party at the clubhouse, love to see you, Adds.
You wanna meet for a drink at The Mule, cupcake?
Each time, I’d turned him down, making some excuse to get out of it because the idea of getting closer to him, the risk of my emotions getting involved, was enough of a deterrent to stay away. I didn’t do emotions or relationships.
Yes, I’d wanted to see him again. I liked him. A lot. Who was I kidding? I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since I walked out and left him sleeping in his bed.
Which was why I’d avoided him—and also why I was standing at his front door now.
That night together had helped me more than he’d ever know. The nightmares and the flashbacks of the fire when I’d lost my family, the panic attacks that I’d thought I’d put behind me, had all come crashing down on me again after I lost my aunt Macy.
Then, for three weeks, the three weeks after I spent the night with Manic, I was okay. My mind had been too full of him, waiting, hoping for another text from him while simultaneously avoiding him, to think of anything else.
Then a week ago, the texts stopped.
And the nightmares, flashbacks, and panic attacks had returned.
I wasn’t an idiot. I knew what it meant. I wasn’t dealing with my aunt’s death in a healthy way. But going back to therapy meant delving into the past, into all kinds of emotions and memories, and I wasn’t ready to do that. Denial had been working for me for a long time. But it wasn’t anymore, and the only thing that had worked was Manic.
The anniversary of the fire was always tough for me, but this year it had been unbearable without my aunt. And that unforgettable, mind-blowing night with Manic had given me an escape from reality. An escape I was in desperate need of again.
Not that I’d ever tell him that.
So first, I needed to apologize for running off without saying goodbye and for avoiding him. Then I was kind of planning to ask him to do it again.
Heat flashed through me, and my heart started racing as the ache between my thighs built.
Unless he’s super pissed with you.
No, that wasn’t Manic. I’d walk in there and he’d probably make fun of me, we’d laugh and flirt, and everything would be fine. No big deal.
So then why were my palms all sweaty?
Because you treated him like crap, then hid like an idiot.
Okay, maybe I did do that. But I doubted he saw it that way. We had a one-night stand. There’d been no expectations on either side. Yes, he’d called and texted me after, a lot. But he’d asked me to have a drink with him, not offered his hand in marriage. He’d probably just wanted another hookup. Which was all I wanted as well.
We were friends, kind of, who’d had sex, and hopefully would again, but that was all.
I looked down at myself, the skirt and top I’d picked out were cute, not overly sexy or dressy. I didn’t want him to think I’d made some special effort or whatever, but I was trying to seduce him. I’d also brought brownies.
I winced. Did that make me seem desperate? God, maybe. Had I made them especially for him? Okay, yes. But he didn’t need to know that either. They were his favorite. I mean, I wasn’t going to bring something he didn’t like to a seduction. I scowled, pissed off at myself. They were fucking brownies. There was nothing wrong with giving your friend, who you really wanted to have sex with again, baked goods. Also, chocolate was an aphrodisiac. So win-win.
I might be a mess in a lot of ways, but I wasn’t a complete idiot.
Thankfully, Manic was the opposite of his road name. I’d never met a guy more chill in my life, honestly. He was calm in a crisis—like the time Lila set her kitchen curtains on fire and he’d put them out without a word while we shrieked like idiots. Or the time some guy was causing trouble at The Mule, and Manic had picked the asshole up and dumped him outside without any drama.
Manic wasn’t the serious relationship kind of guy, he was into casual, no strings. Well, that’s what I’d observed, anyway. I mean, yes, the sex we’d had, had been that once-a-lifetime, mind-altering kind of sex. At the time, it felt as if we’d clicked on a deeper level, which had freaked me out. Now I knew that what I’d felt that night was something else. There was no deep connection. No, what he’d done was taken me out of myself, out of my own head. He’d freed me from the pain and fear and sadness for a while.
And I desperately needed that again.
I was pretty sure Manic had enjoyed himself as well. Which meant this plan was foolproof. I’d analyzed a casual, friends-with-benefits relationship with the big biker from all angles and come up with strategies and coping mechanisms for every eventuality.
I was more than ready.
He still hadn’t answered the door, so I knocked again.
Nothing.
I stepped off the porch and walked around the side of the house. Voices reached me, talking, laughing, coming from the backyard.
I rounded the side of the house.
There was a fire pit blazing, and several of Manic’s brothers sat around it. Riff was there, and so was Dane, another of my best friend’s husbands, and the pair were deep in conversation. There were a couple girls there as well, not old ladies. I knew most of the old ladies. One of the girls was sitting on a biker’s lap, the other was dancing by herself. I wasn’t surprised to see that Riff and Dane didn’t spare either woman a glance. They were all about their women.
Manic sat with his solid arms crossed and a beer in his hand. It was cold, but he was only wearing jeans and his leather vest. His beard was scruffier and so was his hair. The flames from the fire danced over his muscles, highlighting his abs, and my mouth went dry.
I wanted him—badly.
Holding the brownies in one hand, I ran my hands over my hair and stepped out from behind the house—
The back door banged shut, and a woman strode out. She was all legs and hair, and despite the cold, was in tiny shorts. She was wearing a leather jacket, huge and worn that came to almost her knees.
It had Manic’s patch on the back.
I froze and watched as she strode right to him. He was talking to the guy beside him and, without stopping, made space for her to climb onto his lap. My stomach turned over when his hand dropped to rest on her thigh.
Oh shit.
He was with someone else.
Of course, he was. Why would he sit around waiting for me? I’d shot him down so many times that he’d moved on to someone else. And why wouldn’t he?
What the hell had I been thinking coming here like this?
I stumbled back and collided with the corner of the house, hitting my elbow hard. The brownies flew from my hands, landing on the concrete path with a loud bang, and the lid flew off, scattering them everywhere.
Riff and Dane turned my way.
Then the others and the girls.
Then Manic.
His gaze sliced to me then his brows lifted. He grabbed the girl on his lap by the hips, lifted her off, and stood.
Heat slapped me in the face, and I quickly crouched, tossing brownies in the tin, but there was no saving them now. They were everywhere. I gave up, grabbed the container, and straightened. “Sorry, I was going to…I ah…I need to go,” I said, not looking at anyone in particular, then spun and rushed back the way I’d come, around the house and across the yard.
“Yo!” Manic called as I yanked my car door open.
I froze.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
He’d seen me, they’d all seen me. There was no pretending none of this had happened. There was only one thing I could do. I plastered a smile on my face that I hoped didn’t look as maniacal as it felt and forced myself to face him. “Hey…I ah, didn’t realize you were having a party.”
He strode toward me, all huge and gorgeous and confused. “What’re you doing here, Addie?”
“Well, I ah…” Came to seduce you. I lamely lifted my brownie container with several mutilated brownies squished inside it. “Made brownies,” I said like an idiot, the humiliation making my voice louder than I intended.
“Okay,” he said, that frown on his face again.
“But I dropped them, accidentally…obviously. But you’re busy so I’m just going to…I’m gonna go ahead and leave.”
His hand curled around my arm, stopping me. “Wait a minute. What’s going on, Adds?”
I was hoping you’d lay some of your magical sex moves on me again. “Nothing.”
He frowned. “You look spooked. You okay?”
I wasn’t spooked. Stupidly, illogically, I was jealous and…hurt that he’d forgotten me already when I’d thought of nothing else but him since that night. “I’m fine.” I held up my hands, using it as an excuse to pull free from his hold, and took a step back.
He followed, and I retreated some more.
“Why’re you here, cupcake?” he said, watching me closely. “You need me for something?”
Well, yes, actually. Could you please hold me down and take me roughly? “No,” I said way too quickly, and my face heated again.
“Addie…”
“We’re friends, right?” I blurted.
His mouth closed, and his jaw clenched, the muscle jumping. “Yeah, Addison, we’re friends.”
The way he said my full name sent a zing through my lower belly. He’d used my full name that night, and I’d thought about it, that demand in his voice, more than I’d like to admit. “Well, I made too many brownies for the café,” I lied. “And since we’re friends, and I know how much you like them, and I was feeling bad for all the times I—”
“Blew me off?” he said.
“Ah…yeah, so I thought I’d bring you the extras as a peace offering, you know, because we’re friends.” My god, I sounded like a complete idiot. How many times had I said friends? It felt like a lot.
“Right.”
“Sorry, they ended up all over the ground. Next time I bake more than I need, I’ll make sure you get them.”
He said nothing, just stared at me with those rich brown eyes, looking at me as if he were trying to see inside me.
“I, ah, better get going.”
His gaze searched mine. “Why don’t you stay and have a drink?”
And hang out with him and his new woman? PASS. “No, but thanks for the offer. I have cooking to do.”
His jaw did that clenching thing again. “Sure.”
Why did that sound like he didn’t believe me?
Probably because you’re full of shit.
“Manic,” a girl called. The girl, the one who’d looked so at home in his lap, stood by the house, watching us.
“I’m busy,” he said, without looking at her, voice no nonsense.
The girl pouted and walked away.
He watched me expectantly.
I had nothing more to say. “Okay…uh, bye, then.” I quickly spun away and got in my car, started it, threw Manic a bright smile and a wave, and sped away.
I gripped the steering wheel and forced myself to breathe. Manic had moved on. I’d snuck out of his room, put him off, and run away, and I’d missed my chance.
This wasn’t his fault. He had no way of knowing what a hot mess I was. He’d done nothing wrong.
You screwed this up yourself.
Yes, I had.
And now I had to live with it.