(Runaway #1)Taking Risks - H. Maloney

Taking Risks H. Maloney

Cover Art by Melody Simmons Edited for Content by Hot Tree Editing All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places events, and incidents are either products of the author ’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Dedication For every snarky girl who’s jokes fall flat more often than they should and for the few people that get her.

Dark secrets have forced Meg to go on the run and leave the only home she has ever know n . But, it’s not just her home she has left behind; it’s her family a nd her name too. A clean slat e – a fresh start somewher e where she can ’ t be found . And where better to get lost than in a small , dive bar, in a new town run by the local MC ?

Table of Contents CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2 CHAPTER 3 CHAPTER 4 CHAPTER 5 CHAPTER 6 CHAPTER 7 CHAPTER 8 CHAPTER 9 CHAPTER 10 CHAPTER 11 CHAPTER 12 CHAPTER 13 CHAPTER 14 CHAPTER 15 CHAPTER 16 CHAPTER 17 CHAPTER 18 CHAPTER 19 CHAPTER 20 CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 1 MEG “Hey, sugar, I haven’t seen you in forever.” Walking behind the bar from the back office where I’ve just stored my purse, I immediately start playing along with the drunken older man who is, at the moment, swaying slightly. I slap my hand to my chest and gasp, “I know! It must have been at least, what? Nineteen hours? Tell me, what earth-shattering events have I missed since then?” I love working here at The Seventh Circle. I’ve come to realize I thrive on the human interaction, and this place draws all kinds of people, which is an endless source of amusement for me. I lean on the bar and rest my face in my hand. Close enough to know he’s not about to say “a bath.” Armed with this newly acquired knowledge, I quickly straighten up and step back so I can breathe some semi-fresh air. “Oh you know, sweetheart—changin’ the world, curin’ cancer. That kinda thing,” Dennis answers with what I think he believes is a debonair smile, but actually comes off as kind of a leer. Actually, you know what? That was probably his intent anyway. Never mind. Smiling dubiously, I walk away, grab the short apron from the wall, and tie it around my waist. It’s a burnt-orange hue with gray stitching and matches the colors of the Infernal Demons Motorcycle Club, who just so happen to own and run this fine establishment. Dennis continues, “Next week, I’ll figure out how to get a goose to shit gold. You wait and see.” I laugh a little and shake my head at him before I start setting up for my shift. “Well, don’t forget to help a girl out when that happens.” Truthfully, I’m doing pretty well without the magical shitting goose. I’ve worked at The Seventh Circle for a little over three years now, and the crowds have been good to me. The property consists of two buildings with a small courtyard between them. The front building is the bar proper, with pool tables and dart boards occupying the left-hand side and a long, fully stocked bar running along the right. The bar ends with a jukebox just before the hallway leading to bathrooms and the courtyard exit. Pub tables and stools are scattered around the remaining space, with a bandstand at the back wall. Depending on who’s available, it could be the jukebox or a band ruling the bar on any given night. The courtyard is my favorite place, set up with metal tables and chairs and the occasional towering tree. The back building is where the club hosts their informal fights. They usually take place once or twice a week, involving any soul brave enough to be beaten more thoroughly than my morning scrambled eggs. With everything that can go on, business doesn’t usually drag. Not to mention my rack is solidly epic, and she with the good boobs usually gets the good tips. I always have enough to pay my bills, with some left over. I’m pretty sure that’s bar canon, but I digress. “Never darlin’. That’s when I’m finally gonna buck up the courage to ask you to marry me.” Tempting, except not. Dennis is a Vietnam War veteran who, by his own account, spent the entire time running a river boat up and down the Red River completely stoned. You can tell. “Well, you get it to work and I just might say yes.” I wink comically so he knows I’m kidding then walk down the bar to let Allie and Caitlyn know the cavalry is here.

Catching me in her peripheral, Allie turns and sports a relieved grin. “Welcome to the circus!” She leans forward and delivers a theatrical whisper behind her hand. “These people are driving me crazy. I swear these crowds get more and more relentless. I’m going to have to start holding them back with a chair.” I take a quick look around the room to reassess how busy tonight will be. I had looked around when I first walked in the door—I like to start my shifts prepared—and when my original evaluation stands, I start laughing at her obvious exaggeration; it’s a medium-sized crowd, at best. Busy enough to keep me from getting bored, but not busy enough that I’ll be run ragged. Perfect. I point out to the drama queen, “Well, think about it for a minute. Most of the people in the crowd are regulars, so it stands to reason that their alcohol tolerance will continue to build... And build. Imagine how bad it’ll be this time next year... And the year after that.” I finish with a fake shudder. She narrows her eyes evilly and smacks me. I’m sure she thinks her hits are light, but she’s delusional and I’m left rubbing my arm over my rapidly forming bruise. “Remind me not to turn to you when I’m trying to be talked out of jumping from a bridge. I was looking for sympathy, ho.” Caitlyn saves me from shoving my foot in my mouth any farther and receiving more bodily harm when she walks back behind the bar towards Allie. When she spots me, she throws her tiny arms up to signal a touchdown. “Yes! I’ve got a hot date with my foot bath and a bottle of wine, so consider me gone, bitches!” Caitlyn’s what I imagine a real-life Tinkerbell would be like, except with long brown hair. She even has the spitfire attitude. Maybe I’ll finally be able to talk her into wearing that costume for the bar ’s St. Patrick’s Day celebration this year. I am definitely not the only one who would find that funny. Allie shakes her head in disappointment. “When are you finally going to let me set you up?” She’s got maybe five brothers who she continually tries to pawn off on unsuspecting females. I’ve lost count of the exact number, though, so I’m not sure. The thing is, she doesn’t seem to understand they’re not all catches. “When you can assure me a foot massage on the first date. That’s my stipulation.” Hands on her hips and finger wagging, Allie replies, “You’re going to regret it one day when you look around and realize you have no one to keep you warm at night.” Caitlyn just raises a disbelieving brow. “At least I know my date tonight is guaranteed to get me wet. Ba dum tss.” Effectively putting an end to Allie’s useless attempt at motivation, she throws her hand over her head and wiggles her fingers at us as she walks out. I’m laughing so hard at the expression on Allie’s face that I snort. At the sound, she turns her scheming look away from Caitlyn’s retreating back and onto me. My amusement dies. Nope, time to stick a cork in that bullshit bottle right the fuck now. I take a very large step back and move my finger in a swivel motion. “Whoa, now! Don’t look at me. I already went on a reluctant date with one of your brothers and it didn’t work, so I’m off the hook. Turn your beady, calculating eyes elsewhere.” She promised me after badgering me for a year that, if I went on one date with a brother of her choice, she’d stop trying to set me up with her siblings. Thank fuck I got it in writing; she’s a damn pit bull when she wants to be. “The only reason it didn’t work is because you didn’t want it to!”

Yeah, that was it. It couldn’t be because he was more interested in his steak than me. I scowl. “Don’t make me get your written statement, Allie. I’m not dipping my toe into your unfiltered genetic pool again.” She matches my scowl and turns her body but keeps her head facing me, pinning me with her glare for as long as she can before she has to help a customer down the bar. I just roll my eyes and get busy pouring drinks. I love that girl, but part of me thinks she’s insane. Tonight really is a good night, crowd-wise. We don’t even fall too far behind when Allie takes her break and I have to make a few cosmopolitans for the airheads positioned at a table by the bandstand. There is nothing worse than having a full bar of persistent customers and you have to stop and make ridiculous mixed drinks that the clientele should know better than to order. I thought it was an unspoken but universally agreed-upon rule: You can’t order pink drinks if the bar doesn’t play Justin Bieber. And I promise you, our manager, Wiley, would rather see himself dragged over hot coals before he let the Biebs in his jukebox. Seeing me head their way, I feel their judgmental gazes. I know exactly what they see— artificially bright red hair, piercings. My short stature boasts a flat stomach, topped off with pretty magnificent boobs. I can’t get too cocky, though; Mother Nature sought to even everything out with a pair of baby birthing hips. Seriously, if I have to have go through childbirth with a C-section, I’m going to fucking kill someone. I am pretty confident in all my attributes, excessive though some may be. Looking at you, Mother Nature. Something about these cookie-cutter women always has me on defense, however. Walking towards them, cosmos in hand, I return their judgmental gazes and take in their outfits. Standard uniform of skintight dresses, overdone makeup, and shoes so high I’d need an oxygen mask from the change in altitude. I laugh a little to myself at the picture they make. Don’t they know what kind of bar this is? They stick out like sore thumbs in their apparel, but then again that’s probably the point. My own outfit consists of black skinny jeans, black combat boots, and a V-neck Tshirt with the bar ’s logo. Whatever; just add it to the pile of ‘things I’ll never understand.’ I deliver their stupid drinks with a tight smile and walk away. Hopefully, that’s the hardest part of my night. We stay just as steady until about midnight, when only a handful of people are left. I sent Dennis off with a smile and a wave a couple hours ago; it is only a Tuesday, after all. Allie and I decide to seize the opportunity to start cleaning up and putting things in order. Luckily, someone with a huge hard-on for Three Days Grace put a shitload of dollars in the jukebox a while ago, so even the music is making my night downright enjoyable. Okay. That might have been me. Might. I’m wiping down the bar, intermittently holding up a random liquor bottle to my mouth to use as a microphone as I sing along to “The Good Life.” Allie’s goofy self is messing around right along with me, playing air drums and doing the classic headbanger move. She’s good. I’d get a headache after about five seconds, but she’s totally committed to the music. Soon, she’s forgotten about piling empty bottles in the plastic bin and I’ve abandoned my barback duties. We’re just having fun. When the song ends, I’m out of breath, laughing and trying to untangle my hair from my face from my two seconds of headbanging. Don’t judge me. I wanted to show I was committed too! The stragglers still in the bar start clapping and whooping, and Allie and I perform a series of shallow bows for our adoring fans. Still a little out of breath, I straighten up. I’ve finally succeeded in getting my tangled mass out of my face when butterflies erupt in my stomach as I come face to face with the man whose babies I want to have. Not by Cesarean. Are you listening, Mother Nature? Declan is leaning with his forearms on the bar in front of me, sporting an amused grin on his

full lips. His smiles always cause my pulse to race, especially when I’m the reason for them. I momentarily allow myself to be distracted at how good he looks tonight. His dark brown hair—which he wears short on the sides and long on the top—is a little messy, and I know he’s been trying to keep the long inches from his face by sweeping it back with his fingers. His beard is neat and trimmed, like it always is. It’s a very good look for him, and I was pleasantly surprised when he grew it out a few months ago; it highlights his rugged jaw and great cheekbones. Shit, he’s tall. I’m craning my neck from my five-foot-three elevation to just drool over his jaw. I continue my perusal and take in his chest, so wide and cut it causes his gray T-shirt to stretch slightly in order to fit. I only snap out of my lust daze when said chest rumbles with laughter again. Probably at me. Way to be subtle, Meg. My suspicions are confirmed when my eyes fly to his and see he’s watching me check him out. I drag my lower lip between my teeth, debating what to do from here. If I had my way, I’d jump over the bar and attack him here and now, customers be damned. His moss-green eyes follow the movement at my mouth and I decide what the hell. I may as well take the opportunity to finish my perusal. I continue from where I left off, taking in his sculpted biceps and heavy forearms deliciously covered in colored ink. Sigh. I can’t think of anything sexier than tattoos and piercings on a guy. For some reason, it’s my kryptonite. My brain just says, “Oh, look! Body modifications! This looks like a good spot to shut down.” Stupid brain. I can’t wait to take his sexy ass home and lick every inch of his chiseled chest, follow every curve of ink with my tongue, and suck every tiny hoop he has in his ear into my mouth until he groans with frustration. I shake my head a little to clear the fog and stop drooling over my thoughts. I’m getting distracted, and I can feel Declan staring at me. Willing my libido under control, I catch his eyes again and grin. “Hey, Declan.” I lean forward and mimic his position, leaning my forearms against the bar. It just so happens to bring my awesome cleavage into prime view. He takes the bait and glances at my chest for a few seconds, long enough for me to see his Adam’s apple work as he swallows hard. “Hey, Meg. Got an encore coming up soon?” he teases, regaining his relaxed air. “Nope, but there’s a show every Tuesday at midnight,” I joke. “Good to know. So, how’s my favorite bartender?” I can’t get too excited, since I’m pretty sure he says that to all of us. Have I mentioned he’s not aware of the torrid love affair we share? Mostly because it’s only in my head?

CHAPTER 2 MEG “Hanging in there. What can I do for you?” I probe with genuine curiosity. It’s late, and I wonder what’s prompted him to come out. “Do you know where Wiley is? I missed an appointment with him, and he’s not answering his phone,” Declan asks, glancing around the bar. Wiley is the treasurer for the Infernal Demons. He also manages the bar, which includes scheduling the fights that Declan participates in. “Yeah, he was in the office last time I saw.” I seize my opportunity to touch him and briefly rest my hand on his exposed forearm. His eyes flare and electricity shoots up my arm. I usually take advantage of any opening I can to touch him, but I don’t do anything more than that. I think I just like to torture myself with the brief encounters, to be honest. Let the lightning fry my nerve endings to remind me what he does to me. “Give me a minute, and I’ll let him know you’re here to see him.” I reluctantly remove my hand and walk out from behind the bar, heading down the hall to the office. I tap on the door and get nothing, so I open it just enough to poke my head through and yell at a sleeping Wiley that Declan is here to see him. Papers scatter across the floor as he startles awake, and I can’t help but laugh. Shooting me a disgruntled look, Wiley slowly unfolds himself from the chair behind the desk to stand to his full height of six-foot-four. He lifts his hands above his head and stretches while I wait patiently and covertly ogle him. He’s a big guy, built and handsome, with shaggy, light brown hair and a wicked skull tattoo on his neck. I almost peed my pants when I first met him, but then he smiled and two adorable matching dimples popped out. Those dimples took the unspoken threat of loss of life right out of his preceding glare. Not that I’d tell him that. Ever. If only my heart would lose its shit for him instead of Declan. Wiley’s much more approachable, with his easy smiles and laid-back personality. Regrettably, he fits into my heart as the brother I never had. Not to mention he probably knows too much about me, so I don’t know that he’d be willing to let himself get involved with me and put his club at risk. Sigh. Missed opportunity in any case—Allie’s totally tapping that now. Finishing his ridiculously noisy yawn, he lets his massive arms drop against his sides with loud thuds. “Send him back here, will you? With a beer?” I feign sympathy. “Need a pick-me-up beer after your nap, huh?” He laughs. “You know it. And I was napping through paychecks, so if yours is missing next week…” He indicates the new mess of papers strewn about the floor. “Well, it sucks to be you.” I stick my tongue out at him as I walk out of his office and back behind the bar. I smile at Declan and indicate with my thumb. “I woke him up for you, so you’re good to go.” He hooks his thumbs in his pockets and gives me a small smirk. “Thanks, I owe you one. I’ve only had the bad luck of waking him up once before.” He shakes his head. “That asshole took a swing at me. After that, I swore I’d let him be woken up by the grenade that was about to land next to him before I tried to do it again.” I laughed. “Luckily, he’s never taken a swing at me. I’d have shoved my boot so far up his ass I’d carve him a new digestive tract, but really it’s easier to do it from the doorway with about ten feet

of safe distance from his spastic self.” The guy is kind of a mess when he’s startled. I have no idea how Allie does it. Probably chucks shit at him from across the room to remain out of the line of fire. “Well, thanks for the bravery on my account.” “You’re welcome. I’d never turn down a damsel in distress,” I tease. Pulling two bottles of Shiner from the cooler, I hold them out to him. “Here. A gift for the dragon, and one for the damsel.” My smile widens. He chuckles, and the sound warms my insides. He reaches for them and our hands brush mid-exchange. My nostrils flare and I can feel the blood rush to fill my face. My eyes snap to his to see if he feels it too, and the corner of his mouth is tipped in a small, but secret smile. He’s either laughing at my face now matching the color of my hair or maybe, just maybe, he’s getting the same thrill out of this that I do. With a wink, he walks off towards the office, beers in hand. I lean my elbows on the bar and rest my head in my palms, staring at his disappearing backside. It’s such a nice back. So wide and well defined, accompanied gloriously by his toned ass and thighs. Man, I do not know what it is about a man’s thighs, but muscular ones always get my panties wet. I guess it could be worse—I could have a foot fetish. But then again, maybe I do. I definitely wouldn’t turn away the opportunity to stare at his feet. I know for a fact they’re wide and— “Ouch!” I gingerly rub the back of my head where Allie just slammed her open palm against it. “Quit drooling, you nut. It’s downright creepy.” “But his feet—” I whine. “Nope. No completing that thought. I love you, but it’s too weird. Even for me.” I stick my tongue out at her, but her expression turns serious. “When are you going to make a move on that boy? It’s been a year and a half, already.” “Actually, it’s been one year, four mo—” I break off laughing as I try to duck her next attack. I’m just making that up to mess with her. It has been a year and a half, give or take, since he started coming here. Or, more to the point, since I’ve had a thing for him. “Exactly, you creep-tastic perv! It’s time to do something,” Allie demands, squaring her shoulders. Shoot, maybe I was rash in calling Wiley the dragon earlier. Allie looks like she’s ready for battle herself. Sobering up from my previous playful attitude, I look around to make sure everyone has left before I have this conversation. Allie already knows about my crush on him, since I’m not exactly the type to suffer in silence, but I still don’t want the rest of the world to know. Seeing the coast is clear, I turn back to her. “I don’t know, Allie. I’m not sure I’m ready to put myself out there like that. I’m kind of thriving off the brief encounters for right now. And, personally, I’m hoping these feelings may go away just as quickly as they came on.” Booyah. My middle name should be ‘Practical.’ I can live off the touches for now until they stop sending shocks through my system. No harm, no foul. Allie doesn’t know why I’m holding back, but I’m sure she’s figured out something significant has happened to make me hesitate. After all, Declan does present the perfect picture of

boyfriend material. He’s gorgeous, charming, and funny. More importantly, Declan doesn’t use everything God gave him to help him nail anything that crosses his path with more estrogen than testosterone. Which says a lot about his character. However, these things that make him so great also make him incredibly threatening to me. From hard-earned experience, I’ve learned the person someone presents in public isn’t necessarily the same person when the audience is gone. What if I fall for him and history repeats itself? Or worse yet, what if I fall for him and he is everything he seems to be… and doesn’t fall for me? I’ve only been on one date in the three years Allie’s known me, and that was her brother. I didn’t even want to go but I knew he wouldn’t present a threat in the long run, so it was really just about appeasing Allie. She shakes her head at me, sharing my tortured expression. “That’s ridiculous. You started crushing even when you’d had zero significant interaction with him, so it would stand to reason that your feelings will continue with zero significant interaction with him. To break the cycle, for better or worse, you have to approach him. Spend time with him and learn to slay him, or learn to drop him.” Wow. I just got out-logic-ed. I don’t think I like it. I purse my lips in distaste. “I’m not sure I could take it if he didn’t feel the same way about me.” It would be a huge leap to put myself out there and be that vulnerable. My self-confidence has come a long way, but even a three-hundred-pound linebacker could still be hurt if you hit him the right way. She starts massaging her temples, exasperated. “You’re oblivious, aren’t you? Like you legitimately do not know?” I start turning up chairs on the tables, hoping she gets the hint that I don’t want to talk about this anymore. “What am I supposed to know?” I ask, preoccupied. Allie studies my face a moment and eventually waves my question away. “Whatever. You’ll find out eventually. But anyway, it’s exactly how you’re living now. You’re living your life without him actively returning your feelings.” I finish upending the chair in my hand and turn to Allie. She’s not getting the difference. “Yes, but he doesn’t know me now, not really.” I say it slowly and clearly, trying to spell it out for her. “And I don’t technically know how he feels about me. He could have secret shrines in his closet dedicated to me, or he couldn’t care less if I fall off the face of the Earth. But to get up close and personal and bare my soul, only to have him reject me for it? I don’t know that I can handle that.” “I think you’re underestimating him,” she says slowly. “Think about what made you lose your head for him in the first place. You didn’t have to read his preteen diary and current tax statements to decide that he’s earned his very own beehive in your belly, did you?” I close my eyes. Shit, she’s right. Again. Damn, I hate when that happens. I didn’t have to get close to him to know he was going to affect me like no one ever had. I think back to the time I first took notice of him and sigh just remembering what it did to me. While he had been to the bar a few times, my fate was sealed the first time I ever saw him smile. Really smile, I mean, not just a smirk or a polite response. I don’t even know what or who had caused it, but it was huge and warm and showed pure, unfettered happiness. His warm green eyes crinkled at the corners as a loud, surprised laugh tumbled out, a laugh that still makes me tingle just thinking about it. I remember thinking it sounded

rusty, definitely underused, and I wanted to be the one to fix that. The happiness painted on his face in that moment was the essence of pure joy, and I wanted as much of it as I could get. I wanted to be the reason that sound filled my ears. That same compelling feeling compounded with every exchange, his touch bringing every cell in my body back to life. Every smile, every brush of his fingers, and every breath I feel on my shoulder as I purposely reach across him makes my heart leap to my throat and my lungs cease to function. His pull is downright magnetic. I open my eyes again to see Allie giving me a knowing smile at the adoring, dreamy look that’s taken over. She grabs my face between both hands, searching my eyes. “You’re cheating both of you if you don’t at least try to see if this attraction means anything.” She pulls her hands from me now that she’s driven her point home. Taking her words into consideration, my heart starts to pound. Now that she’s got me considering leaping off the high dive, my adrenaline is waking up. I wipe my suddenly sweaty palms against my jeans, “Maybe. But… I’m not even sure where to start. Or how to start, for that matter.” “You’ll figure it out. Of course, it won’t be easy, but don’t you think it’ll be worth it? If he falls for you, you’ll have an amazing story to tell your grandchildren. Really play up your bravery. Otherwise, at least you won’t be on your deathbed plagued with the ‘what-ifs.’” “Thanks, Ms. Miyagi.” Aw, snap. She pulled out the hardcore philosophical wisdom. “You’re welcome, grasshopper.” She shrugs and finally lets the subject drop so we can finish up and go home. She knows she’s gotten me thinking, but the rest is up to me. Can I do it? Sacrifice the small pleasure I get now and risk not having it at all if it doesn’t turn out the way I would hope?

CHAPTER 3 MEG My phone goes off at ten in the morning. With a groan, I reach over to swipe my screen and turn off the alarm before promptly burying my head in the pillow again. Stupid alarm. Wait… Why did I set an alarm? This is about the time I realize there’s yelling going on in the distance. Dammit. I had answered a call. Whoever it is better be dying. Without looking at the screen, I put it against my face and say as much. “Well, that’s one way to greet the one person in the world who has the best news ever.” “Do you have my Publishers Clearing House check?” I hear Allie sigh loudly in annoyance. “You know I don’t.” “Then thanks for playing, but I’m hanging up now.” I am not a morning person. But before I can hang up, I hear her scream, “You hang up this phone right now and I will punch you in the throat, woman!” Ouch. She’ll do it too. I sit up against my headboard and get comfortable. This is obviously not going to be over quickly. “Fiiiine. What’s going on that you have to wake me up so early?” “It’s not that early. Besides, it’s a beautiful day. Throw back the curtains and enjoy this gorgeous weather while it lasts.” I can’t keep from rolling my eyes, even if she can’t see me. If she woke me up just to tell me to enjoy the sunshine I’m hanging up on her. Threat or not, she knows I’m not my best before caffeine. “Allie, get to the point! I need coffee, or better yet, to be comatose again.” “Geez. All the bitch.” I ignore that comment mostly because she’s right. “Well, remember that conversation we had? About Declan?” “Yeah.” Of course I did. I’ve had trouble sleeping with the decision weighing on me, which is why I was a mite extra cranky today. Of course, seeing Declan last night got me all hot and bothered, which isn’t helping either. Now I’m horny, confused, and afraid. Perfect. “Well, I found a way to start your hostile takeover.” She pauses for dramatic effect, and I let her, hoping she’ll land her plane soon. “Declan. I know of a way that will let you spend more time with him. Close. Physical. Contact. No way will he be able to resist you when you’re all up in his grill!” Oh, hell no. I run frustrated fingers through my hair and grip my scalp. She better not be implying what I think she is. She’s been threating this since day one. “I don’t care that you’ve finally figured out his favorite strip joint. I’m still not stripping, Allie.” Her theory is that men can’t resist half-naked women, and being a stripper is the most logical way to get there. I always thought she was kidding, but now I’m not so sure. Allie merely laughs in response. Oh, good. I’m glad we’re past that. “No, unfortunately, I still don’t know that. Yet. But you know how he owns that gym downtown? Corps Strength, I think.” I grunt in acknowledgement for her to continue. “Well, last night, he gave Wiley a stack of flyers to pin to the bulletin board at the bar. He left a few on the table when he got home last night. And do you know what those flyers said?”

I’d been able to casually glean some information on Declan from Wiley in the past, so I knew he owned the gym. I also knew he served in the Marine Corps for eight years, through four tours. Turns out, he served with some of the guys from the club, including Wiley, which is where their friendship originated. I shake my head, forcing myself to focus and play along. Really only because I know it’ll be required of me before she gives up. “I don’t know. He’s looking for a bartender for his juice bar?” Does his place even have a juice bar? Is a server of juice even considered a bartender? I didn’t think so, in either case. Regardless, she’s satisfied with my guess and moves on. “Nope!” she says, popping the p. “He’s decided to offer classes! Classes like Krav Maga…” she draws out slowly. I immediately catch on, almost leaping from the bed. I’m definitely awake now, and definitely excited. “Oh, my God!” I yell. I start squealing and Allie, bless her heart, squeals with me. I almost can’t believe it. This could be it! This is fate handing me a freaking bone and telling me what the result of my coin toss was. I can stop agonizing over deciding my potential future torture —rejection, or lack of action. Call me a sucker, but I call that a sign.

CHAPTER 4 MEG I’m sitting in my car outside the gym, giving myself a pep talk that would make the Gipper proud. I signed up for the classes at noon during the week. I’m sure the time is meant to draw in the lunch crowd, people looking to make their lunch hour productive, but I’m hoping it won’t be too crowded. Increased exposure will make for increased efficiency. Taking one final deep breath, I climb out of my car and head for the entrance. The young guy at the front desk greets me and points me to the locker room where I can store my stuff. Along the way, I gawk at the goings-on around me. There are several mats in the center on which half-naked men in pads are sparring. Fitness machines line one wall, and free weights line another. The back wall is made up of mostly glass, and you can see inside the exercise rooms. The whole place looks so sleek and modern. I should have started working out here way before now. This place is really nice. No juice bar though. I was right. In the back of one corner is a hallway with various other doors—offices, I imagine—and finally the locker rooms; women on one side of the hall, men on the other. Quickly storing my stuff, I walk back to the aerobic room assigned to the class and jump right into the crowd as Declan starts to address his students. I follow along, attempting to keep my attention on the instruction more so than the instructor. We do some warm-ups that have me breathing heavy by the time we finish, and I know it’s not from my lack of endurance. When I first moved to Houston, I enrolled myself in several self-defense classes for peace of mind. I don’t take them as religiously as I used to though; I must be becoming complacent. But I do keep up with my cardio. Which leads me to believe it’s Declan’s basketball shorts lifting each time he changes stances, showing me his bulging quads, that has me incapable of even breaths. Every time. Focus. About halfway through the class we’ve been paired off to practice exercises, each taking turns to hold the pad the other wails against. Well, I use the term ‘wail’ loosely, as I’m paired with a middle-aged man, Robert, who would probably be more at home in a pottery class. Declan walks around the room, analyzing and correcting our forms. When he gets to Rob and me, my anxiety ramps up. Robert has the pad and I’m practicing hammer fists. Correction —attempting to practice hammer fists. It’s not pretty. I swear I know what I’m doing, but Declan being so close is throwing me off. He repositions my arm and I try to control my breathing, which suddenly wants to stop. He holds my arm up parallel against his, to correct my form, his warm, hair-roughened skin causing goose bumps to break out across my body. “You don’t want to go out of this range; this is where you’ll be the most stable. You’ll be able to build up enough energy to hurt your attacker without inflicting damage on yourself.” He’s looking at me as he talks, and I put my game face on long enough to absorb. When I try again, he lays his hand on my shoulder briefly and says, “Good. Keep working. And harder, don’t be afraid to hurt the pad.” With that, he moves on, but I still feel the warmth. Declan aside, I really am enjoying myself during the class. He’s a great teacher and motivator. There’s nothing worse than being taught by someone who doesn’t want to be there. When Declan dismisses the class, I plop down on the floor to cool down and attempt to stretch my sorely abused muscles before they tighten up on me.

“My hero. Glad you could make it today,” I hear Declan tease, referring to our banter a few nights ago. I look up from my toe touch and grin at him. “We can’t all be Clark Kent; most of us heroes have to keep practicing. Got to stay in shape for the next time you faint.” He barks out a surprised laugh and crosses his arms across his chest, clearly getting comfortable. “Oh, I fainted, huh?” I move to stand and he holds his hand out to help me. I don’t hesitate to take it. His hand is huge and warm and engulfs mine. When I’m on my feet, I try to release his hand, but he doesn’t let go. I gulp, eyes glued to our connection. Trying not to focus on our rather distracting physical contact, I say, “Hell yeah. That’s the story, and you won’t convince me otherwise. And don’t forget, I serve people a heaping helping of my bullshit with a side of alcohol, so watch out.” I shake my head sadly. “Your reputation is as good as destroyed.” Slowly, he releases my hand, nodding, “Well then, at least I still have you to fight my battles for me. You going to fight Troyer for me next month?” Oh, hell no. I’m going to have to pass on that. Jonathan Troyer bears a startling resemblance to Dwayne Johnson. Seeing my eyes widen, he continues, his turn to really warm up to the teasing. “Oh, yeah. You know, this could work. You’re tiny, but that’ll be to your benefit. You’ll be so quick you could have him unconscious before he even knows the bell rang. They’ll call you Meg ‘The Viper ’ James.” He brings one hand up to rub his jaw thoughtfully. “I think we could make this happen.” He shadowboxes to punctuate his statement, stopping after a couple quick jabs. My eyebrows arch. “Uh-huh. I concede. You win. I think I’ll just stick to pouring beers.” Because yeah right. “Tsk tsk,” he teases, shaking his head. “You put on that cape, you better be ready to be Superman.” “I think my cape is at the cleaners after all.” He laughs. “So, are you coming back next week or have I scared you away?” “Oh, no. I am definitely coming back. Apparently, I’ve got some pent-up tension to work out, and beating the shit out of a plastic pad seems to help. Don’t want to snap and beat a customer.” He nods in understanding. “As a frequent customer, I appreciate that. Your choke holds are solid. I’d prefer not to be in one if I happen to piss you off.” He rubs his neck with a pained expression. I like his teasing; he’s funny. I nod solemnly. “So really, it’s for the betterment of mankind. Who am I to deny it?” Dropping the gag, he says, “You really did well today. Don’t be afraid to correct Rob’s form next time.” I smile, soaking up the compliment. “Noted.” “Great. I’ll catch you later, Meg.” He walks away, throwing a smile over his shoulder at me. This was a good move. I owe Allie a few bottles of wine. I’m confident in saying I’m no longer just the girl who pours his beers. Win.

CHAPTER 5 DECLAN “Hey, man, you want one?” Wiley gestures to the beer in his hand as I join him at a table. I shake my head in answer. “No, I’ve got a fight later.” “Oh, shit, that’s right. Yeah, no fucking beer for you. You puke on my mats and you’ll be cleaning it up. So, you gonna kick Holloway’s ass, or are you gonna let that shit-talking pussy whip yours?” “Is that guy still talking shit? He shouldn’t even be fighting me. I could just sit on him and crush him.” Got to give it to him for lobbying for this fight though. He’s brave. Or crazy. The guy is five-foot-nine tops and reminds me of that small, beady-eyed guy from Top Gear. I’ve got at least half a foot and thirty pounds on him. “What the fuck does he want from this fight, anyway?” “Who knows? Maybe the money? I think it’s a Napoleon complex, personally. Just let him get his ass kicked, if that’s what he wants.” Wiley shrugs and leans back in his chair. There’s no sport in that though. I fight to get my adrenaline fix, and that little shit’s not going to give it to me. I’ve seen him fight before; he doesn’t even have the benefit of being fast for his smaller stature. I let out a frustrated breath and lift my hand to flag someone down. I need to hydrate before I step into this shit show. Looking around, I see I’ve caught Meg’s attention and I almost let loose a smile in predatory satisfaction. I love watching her blush for me. There is nothing sexier than knowing I affect her like that. I wonder what she’s thinking that causes the rush of blood. I hope it’s the same scenario I think about. I run my eyes over her shape, fantasizing about the day I get to run my hands along every inch of her smooth skin. I want to watch the trail of goose bumps as I make my way down. I’m fucking desperate to know if she’ll blush all over. My thoughts are interrupted by a low growl in the background. Shit. I know better than to do that while Wiley’s around. I clear the sudden lump from my throat and turn back around once I see Meg gesture she’ll be by in a minute. “Fuck! What the hell, asshole?” I glare at Wiley. Fucker just smacked me upside the head! “Keep your scheming eyes off Meg. Dick,” he demands. “Scheming? I just need some fucking water. Jackass,” I state in falsely innocent outrage. He crosses his arms across his chest and cocks an eyebrow at me. “Cut the Shirley Temple bullshit. You and I both know you’re full of shit. Leave. Her. Alone.” All right. I imitate his body language, on the defense now. If we’re suddenly being honest… “Why?” Wiley gestures at Meg with his chin. “That girl has been through more than you know, and I won’t have you jacking her around.” “What exactly does that mean?” I growl, insulted. I’m not an asshole, and I don’t intend on jacking her around. I can understand she’s been through shit—who hasn’t? I’m not asking her to buy the cemetery plot next to mine; I just think we can spend some time together, have some fun. She’s

beautiful, smart, and funny. What man doesn’t want a woman like that around? “Not my business to tell you. She’ll share if and when she wants, but in the meantime—” Wiley leans forward in a hostile stance, finger pointed at my chest “—that girl is just as much family to me as you are, but I will not hesitate to put you in the fucking ground over her.” I get it. She’s like a sister to him. But fuck if I let his fear for her feelings stop Meg and me from getting what we want anymore. And I fucking know she wants it. I lean back in my chair, getting comfortable. Up until now, I’ve let Wiley warn me away, and I’ve let Meg’s obvious hesitation keep me away. I get that she’s been through something, but nothing is getting solved by me holding back. I think the timer ’s finally up. “You know, I respect what you’re saying, Wiley.” And I do. It’s out of concern and it comes from a pure place, I can see that. “But I don’t think that’s going to be enough to stop me anymore.” His face registers surprise for a minute before it morphs into anger. “You better not be saying what I fucking think you are.” I nod, looking him directly in the eye. “You can’t protect her forever, Wiley,” I say carefully. “You know she wants me too. She can make decisions for herself. You just have to let her.” I haven’t wanted to fight over this in the past, but now I’m willing too if that’s what he needs, and I tell him that. “Oh, God. Please, no fighting in here!” Meg begs as she catches the tail end of my statement to Wiley. I don’t break eye contact, waiting to see what his reaction is. His glare never leaves my face as he tells Meg, “No, Meg. There won’t be fighting in here. Declan was just telling me he wants to fight Martinez soon.” Well, shit. I hate that fucker, and Wiley knows it. I know these aren’t sanctioned bouts, but that asshole fights dirty. But if that’s what it takes… I lift my chin at Wiley in acceptance, understanding I’ve just been given reluctant permission, a warning, and a punishment all dished out in one sentence. He holds my stare a minute longer before looking away at the crowd. I turn to see Meg’s confused expression and feel the elation flow over me. Fucking finally. “I think I’m missing something,” she says, glancing between me and Wiley. I just shrug at her statement, letting a grin spread over my face. “Definitely. But don’t worry about it.” I watch as her eyes draw down to my lips, and it takes everything I have not to pull her to my lap right now. But I’ve just won a major victory with Wiley. Now I need to convince her. *** MEG Whoa. I have undoubtedly walked in on something here. Whatever it is, I think Declan won. Wiley looks like he’s about to shit a brick, and Declan looks like the proverbial cat who ate the canary. “Uh, okay. What can I get you guys?” No sense in hanging around this tense atmosphere any longer than necessary. Declan rubs his beard thoughtfully for a moment. “Yeah, Meg. Can you tell me what that tap is?” He’s pointing to the row of beer taps against the wall behind the bar. I squint, attempting to follow the direction he’s pointing in. Fuck if I can see what he’s talking about. “I have no idea which one you mean, Declan.”

“Here.” He takes my hand in his, and I can feel my pulse begin to pound. All I can think is that he must really want this beer; Declan doesn’t normally touch me so overtly. In order to follow my hand and see the taps from my standing position at the table, I have to lean over him, and I am immediately overcome by the clean sandalwood scent radiating from his warm skin. I’m huffing him like he’s a goddamn Sharpie and I’m a junkie looking for a high. I close my eyes like the creep I am and enjoy my breast pressed against his hard chest. “Meg?” His warm breath caresses my cheek. “Meg?” I clear my throat, attempting to regulate my breathing again, but fuck is it hard. “Whi-Which one?” I stutter through, but manage to get it out. I feel his smile more than see it. I can’t look. I won’t be responsible for my actions if I see his smile so close—and directed at me, no less. “The green and red one.” I carefully extricate myself from my position across his body and swallow a couple of times to bring some saliva back into my recently dry mouth. I don’t even need to see which one he was pointing at, I know the one. “Tha—” I stop to clear my throat again. Smooth, Meg. Deep breath. Get a hold of yourself! “That’s the Don Jalapeño by No Label.” I chance a glance at him and see he’s staring at my throat as it works in overdrive. “It’s their spring seasonal beer. Really good, but only if you’re not afraid of pepper.” Declan lifts his intense gaze to meet mine again, and I see that his pupils are dilated. He leans closer to me. “Good thing I like the heat,” he says, his voice low. “Save some for me after the fight. For now, can I get some water?” Am I blinking too much? I think I’m blinking too much. What about swallowing? I know I’m swallowing too much. Did I get dropped into an alternate universe? Is someone going to say, “Thanks for all the cheese,” next? I don’t normally end up on the receiving end of a smoldering Declan... His testosterone must be through the roof before the fight. Right? Not that I’m complaining. “Yeah. Okay.” I walk away quickly, still overwhelmed and caught off guard, ignoring the “Ow, fucker! That was my shin!” I hear Declan yell from behind me. First stop, the ladies’ room to change my panties, then to get his water. Someone else is going to have to bring it to him though; I only have one spare pair of panties with the emergency change of clothes I keep in my locker. I did peek in on his fight against Holloway on my break, and was treated to his glistening body rolling around the floor… Sure, he was down there putting Holloway in an arm bar, but it was still very sexy. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to give him that beer later; he disappeared into Wiley’s office after the fight and I didn’t see him before my shift was up. I was hoping to see if he was still in smolder mode. Oh, well. Next time.

CHAPTER 6 MEG “Order up, Meg. Can you get that to table eight?” I’m at work the next fight night and it’s a crush in here. It usually is when there are fights scheduled and honestly, I’d probably avoid them if the money weren’t so good. Keeping my cool while weaving through tight groups of people and emphatic drunks with a tray full of open drinks guarantees I earn every freaking penny. I hiss at Jordy, the bartender working with me tonight, in response to her question when I get close enough for her to hear. She just shrugs apologetically in answer and walks down the bar to take another order. It’s not her fault, I know, but damn! I just finished an obstacle course trying to get back to the bar. I pick up the tray of beers and head to the back table. Thankfully, my ducking skills are on point or I would have eaten the cement when a customer threw an arm out to gesture across the room. I earned a cookie for that. I’m definitely having one when I get home. I arrive at the table with all drinks still upright on the tray, proud smile affixed to my face. When I see who’s sitting there, my proud smile turns to one of genuine pleasure. “Hey, guys.” I’m met with a cheer from a couple of the guys sitting around the table. “Beers are up!” yells Mark. “Dude, who the fuck ordered the light beer? That shit tastes like horse piss,” Unknown Man Number One says with a disgusted look. “I did, douche bag. I need to watch my girlish figure,” Aiden responds, hands positioned comically on his head and hip, earning a laugh and a couple catcalls. “Besides, it’s better than that mud crap you drink.” “Mud? Did you just call careful undertones of coffee and malt ‘mud’?” He slams his palm on the table and calls out, “Blasphemy!” Meanwhile, I just stand there with my eyebrows up during this exchange. Odd duckies. To avoid further displays, I just go ahead and set their beers down on the table. “Dude, you scared the hot lady who’s carrying the sweet, sweet brew of life. Not cool,” Unknown Man Number Two says. Wiley finally speaks up. “Brandon, this is Meg. She’s one of my best bartenders here.” He gestures with his hand. “Meg, this is Brandon. He’s an idiot.” I laugh and lean forward to shake Brandon’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Brandon.” He doesn’t let me immediately pull my hand away, instead brings it closer and turns it to place a kiss on my palm. My mouth drops open a little in shock. “Enchanté, Meg.” Awkward laughter bubbles in my throat. Is this guy for real? “Laying it on a little thick there, huh, Brandon?” Declan asks from across the table, taking a long pull from his beer. “Thick? There’s no such thing. I aim to get this girl to notice me, and for that I have to work

a little harder to stand out. But you wouldn’t know, since you have no game.” Endeavour successful. I’m definitely noticing him and his dark chocolate eyes. He turns back to me, ignoring Declan. “So, Meg, tell me. Do you enjoy your job?” He still has my hand, so running away doesn’t seem like an option; besides, this is interesting. Sure, guys have flirted with me before, but it always seems shallow and just in good fun—not that I’ve encouraged it in a real, yes-let’s-date scenario. I’ve only ever had eyes for Declan, but this guy is downright entertaining and cute to boot. His short blond hair has no organization to it, giving him a laid-back air, but his rocking body tells me he’s no slouch. Too bad I don’t have the same reaction for him that I do for Declan. “I do. I like getting to meet new and interesting characters.” I grin at him, clearly conveying he’s one of said characters. “Ah. And when are you free from this place to get to know a character better?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively, and an honest-to-God giggle escapes. “Asshole. She can’t date customers,” Declan says, getting annoyed. Huh? I turn to him, confused, and he just stares steadily back at me, expression blank. Since when can I not date customers? “Just because I haven’t doesn’t mean I can’t.” I look to Wiley for confirmation and he nods, equally confused with Declan’s statement. With my free hand, I point to Wiley. “There, see? My boss says I can.” Is this why he hasn’t made a move on me? No. That can’t be it. That rule would be way too stupid to believe. Right? A muscle starts ticking in his jaw. “Well then, you can’t date him. It wouldn’t work. You work in a bar for a motorcycle club, and he’s an engineer.” I can feel the scowl take over my face even before he’s finished his statement. What the everloving fuck is that supposed to mean? Am I not good enough for him because he’s an almighty engineer and I’m a measly bartender for a dirty motorcycle club? Or maybe I’m not good enough just because Brandon is Declan’s friend. My insides sear with my rising rage, and I have to hold myself back. I’ve had enough of this bullshit. I yank my hands down to my sides and try to channel my anger into my stationary fists, small pleasure in Brandon’s outrageous flirting completely forgotten. Declan’s eyes widen as he realizes what he just said, or more like what he just let slip out. At my side, Brandon yells at Declan, “What the fuck, asshole?” Expressions around the table range from confused to angry to amused. “Right. Well, I hope you enjoy your beers. I’m just going to take my inferior self back to the bar now.” With that, I dismiss them all and pivot on my heel back to the bar. I feel bad for being so rude to the others, but there was no way I could stay there a minute longer. Does he really consider me inferior? And for which part? For working for a motorcycle club, the same one he’s friends with, or for being a lowly bartender, at the same bar he deigns to patron? I’m so upset by his words I can’t even maintain a single emotion. How can I have such strong feelings for a man who apparently doesn’t respect me? I bounce around among anger, hurt, and embarrassment. This emotional upheaval makes the remainder of my shift rather difficult, especially since I can’t punch the next asshole who gives me a sideways glance I don’t like. When the fight starts a couple hours later and most of the crowd has moved into the back building, I seize the opportunity to get some fresh air in the courtyard and sit my tired ass down. After

Declan’s bullshit, I haven’t been in the right frame of mind to deal with the crowd. I rest my head against the brick wall and close my eyes, trying to relax. Propping my feet on the opposite chair, I take a few deep breaths, trying to eradicate my foul mood. When I hear the heavy metal door to the back building bang open, I ignore it. It’s not unusual; probably just another reveler looking to refresh his beer. My eyes remain closed until the hair starts to prickle at the back of my neck. Not a tremendously enjoyable feeling, all things considered. I pop my eyes open and see the last person I want around me taking the last few steps to stop in front of me. I immediately close them again, ignoring him. Declan is either oblivious or just doesn’t care about my blatant dismissal, because the next thing I hear is the scrape of a metal chair against the concrete as he pulls it closer. I open my eyes to see what he’s up to and notice he’s positioned his chair to trap me between the wall, the table, and himself. I just sigh deeply in response. Clearly he’s got something to say. I pull my feet off the other chair and sit up. “What do you want, Declan? I feel like you’ve said enough already.” He gives me a carefully blank look and leans back, running his fingers through his hair. In aggravation, nervousness—who can tell? “Meg, you have to know I didn’t mean it that way,” he says, almost imploringly. Too bad my nerves are too rankled to just accept it. I stay silent, brows arched, waiting for him to fill the silence. “I don’t think you’re not good enough for him, Meg. I meant he’s not good enough for you.” I snort. “That’s not what it sounded like.” He leans forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. “I know, Meg. I know what it sounded like, but that still doesn’t mean what you think it did.” I revert back to silence. He grunts, expels a heavy breath, and states quietly, “It means that you’re too exciting for Brandon. He’s a boring douche bag, and you’re beautiful and interesting and fun.” My breath quickens and I force myself to gloss over the second part of his statement. I can’t handle it just yet. “He didn’t seem boring to me,” I deflect, zoning in on his comment about Brandon. He reaches forward and grabs a strand of my bright red hair. Rubbing it between his fingers, he stares hard at it without actually seeing it. Every muscle in my body seizes, afraid to make a move and disturb him from his careful study, loving his closeness. “That’s what my problem was, Meg.” He drops the strand and refocuses on my face. “He’s not supposed to be the one to catch your attention.” He’s jealous? I search his face, trying to ascertain the truth. “And who is supposed to catch my attention, Declan?” He leans close and whispers in my ear. I close my eyes as his hot breath fans against my neck, causing shivers to erupt. “If you have to ask, Meg, I haven’t been doing this right.” And with that, he stands and heads inside. I have no response; I’m too stunned. All I can do is stare as he walks away, my mouth hanging open. Did he just say what I think he did?

CHAPTER 7 MEG Allie, Caitlyn, and I have a rare night off together, so we’ve planned to go out dancing at a club uptown. Its nine thirty and I’m putting the finishing touches on my makeup when they start banging on my front door. “Fuck, people. This place is not that big; you don’t have to bang that hard,” I tell them as I open the door to let them in. “That’s what she said,” Allie and Caitlyn both rush to say. Immediately, they start arguing about who said it first. I just walk back to my room to grab my strappy heels. They’ll stop eventually. and it’ll be quicker if I stay out of it. I run a critical eye over my appearance one last time in the mirror. I’ve chosen a simple, short fit-and-flare dress that flatters my waist and plunges between my boobs to really showcase my cleavage. The back of it is my favorite—wide open to show off a few tattoos that rarely see the light of day. I’ve left my long hair down with loose curls, letting the black color of the dress really bring out the neon red of my hair. I topped my look off with a little eyeliner and mascara. Clean and simple because I know after a few hours of dancing, it’ll only run down my face anyway. Deeming myself fit for public viewing, I walk back out to Allie and Caitlyn, who have mercifully moved on to a new topic. I stop to take them in and let out a wolf whistle. “You girls are hot!” And they are. Allie’s got a body that makes me believe in reincarnation. She looks like a contemporary Marilyn freaking Monroe with shoulder-length blonde hair. She’s wearing a coral bandage dress that will make men pop boners everywhere we go. “I can’t believe Wiley let you leave like that.” “He didn’t. I got dressed at Caitlyn’s.” She smiles evilly. Shit. I hope no one from the club sees her. Wiley will have her over his shoulder and out the door before she can tell him to fuck off, which she definitely would. “Ah. You must have let her dress you then,” I tell Caitlyn. She’s got a form-fitting, strapless top on and hot pants with fishnets. She looks incredible, but she isn’t usually one to go for both short and tight in one outfit. She taps her finger to her nose to indicate I guessed right. Allie shoos us. “Now that we’ve addressed our collective hotness, time to get going. The taxi won’t wait forever.” *** Two hours and too many shots later, we’re taking a break from mindlessly shaking our asses on the dance floor. Allie heads to the bar to get more drinks for us, while Caitlyn and I grab an open table to catch our breath. Caitlyn starts, “So, you never did say how your first class went.” Of course, Allie filled her in on the plan the other day. Probably right after she called me. I haven’t told anyone what Declan said the other night, my mind still reeling with the implications. Have I really been the only obstacle in us being together? Have I sabotaged myself all

this time? I shake my head to clear the heavy fog of my thoughts. I can’t think about that. I can’t let myself think that I’m the only reason I haven’t allowed myself to be happy with the only man to send my pulse racing. I especially can’t think of it with alcohol in my system. Now is not the time for soulsearching self-examination, so I play off Caitlyn’s question. Bolstered by my alcohol-inflated self-confidence in my acting ability, I grin. “It went great! He’ll be mine in no time!” She raises an eyebrow at me. I return it by using my finger to prop up my left eyebrow. “What? Don’t look at me like that. There was definitely flirting afoot.” Boy, was there. “Then good, I’m glad.” She leans forward to put her hand on my shoulder. “You deserve it.” “Enough being serious! I need to ply you with more alcohol. Clearly, you’re behind.” I turn my head to see Allie headed our way with a bartender in tow. I can’t control the giggles that flood out of me; of course she picked up a willing errand boy. “Perfect timing!” I cry when she’s within range, punctuating it by throwing my arms up in victory. She smiles to her devoted follower after he sets down our drinks. Turning towards us, she offers him a wink over her shoulder, efficiently dismissing him. I swear I can hear his heart beating into overdrive from my spot three feet away from him. She grabs her glass and lifts it high. We follow suit and she screams, “Bottom’s up!” The sickeningly sweet taste burns a path down my throat. I’m guessing this isn’t the Fireball whiskey we’ve been shooting all night. Blech! Slamming my glass back on the table, I wipe my lips with a cocktail napkin. “Are you trying to kill me, woman? That shit is nasty.” “Kill? No. Maim? Torment? Maybe. But to outright kill? Never!” Caitlyn is just as flattered as I am, which is to say not really. “Thanks. I think?” She directs the question to me, and all I can do is shrug. “So Allie, I’m actually really surprised Wiley hasn’t shown up.” Seriously, her dress is so tight I know she’s not wearing underwear, and Wiley has friends everywhere. His head is going to explode. Little bits of Wiley’s brain would have to be removed from the walls. She smirks. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he knows later. That’s how I plan to get home tonight.” Caitlyn and I laugh. Crazy girl. “You guys have no idea how hot it is when your man goes all alpha over you. When he chucks you over his shoulder and fucks you for hours just to remind you both that you’re his? Best orgasms of my life are when he’s jealous.” Running her hand down her body, she shivers. That does sound hot. Goose bumps break out on my skin as I wonder what it would be like to be the sole focus of someone’s desire. Namely Declan’s. I fan myself thinking about the possibilities. Would he fuck me hard to make sure sore muscles reminded me of him for a week, or would he punish me with slow thrusts over and over again, delaying my orgasm and tormenting me? Caitlyn weighs in. “If someone ever did that to me. I’d rip off their testicles.” I wince in sympathy for the theoretical man. “Yeah, but you’re a badass little ball-buster. To the rest of the female population? That scenario was hot.”

I agree with Allie, adding, “I need to get laid.” Identical expressions of sympathy stare back at me. Caitlyn is the first one to speak. “That’s all right. We’ll find you a prime piece of man meat to tide you over until Declan gets his head out of his ass!” Allie nods enthusiastically. “Hell yes, we will!” I sigh happily and throw my arms around them in a surprise group hug. “I love you guys!” Allie laughs and Caitlyn shakes her head. “And there it is.” In our group-hug huddle, I feel her look over my head at Allie. “I didn’t think she’d had that much to drink?” I feel Allie shrug in response, still laughing. I’m a touchy-feely drunk; I fucking love everyone. “I’m not drunk.” And I’m not. I’m only getting the beginnings of a buzz, but I am excited to be out with my friends, dancing and drinking. “Let’s dance!” Not giving them a chance to argue, I pull them with me towards the dance floor. Somewhere in the midst of a Jason Derulo song, my bladder becomes persistent. Prissy bitch. I let the girls know with the hands crossed, knees bent universal ‘I have to pee’ signal that I’m going to the bathroom and take off. I bypass the infinite line at the women’s bathroom and thank my lucky stars we discovered the handicapped bathroom a few club visits ago. The one that’s down the hall, around the corner, and gloriously out of sight. I’d pee on myself before I made it to the front of that thing. I quickly finish my business and wash my hands. I spend a few moments finger combing my hair and wiping the black smudges from beneath my eyes. Waterproof mascara, my foot. When I feel restored, I take a deep breath and yank open the bathroom door to get back to it… Only to be forced to an abrupt stop when I careen into someone standing in the middle of the hallway just outside the door. Strong arms grab my shoulders to keep me from falling on my ass, because I was definitely headed in that direction. I gasp in belated surprise. “I am so sorry!” I manage to squeak out. “Whoa. It’s all right. You okay?” a curiously familiar voice asks. I tilt my head up to see who the voice belongs to and I’m met with Declan’s moss-green gaze. Common sense, exit stage left. Cue the lust haze. “Hi.” I haven’t seen him in a few days. Not since the courtyard. He laughs softly, clearly amused. “Hi. You okay?” he repeats. He’s so close; my hands haven’t moved from his chest where I’d tried to find purchase before he caught me. If I answer no, will he keep his hands on my shoulders forever? Maybe I could persuade him to grip tighter and move lower? Talk about starting off our flirtation with a bang. I bet his big hands know exactly— I stop myself before I can complete that thought and shake my head a little to clear it. Obviously, I’m still worked up from the caveman discussion earlier. What was he saying again? Oh, right. “Oh, yes. Yes, I am. Sorry. I never really got a handle on the whole ‘look before you walk’ thing. Thanks for not letting me fall. I might have broken a bone from the height of these heels.” His eyes drop to my shoes and slowly trail up my legs, slowly enough for me to thank the shoe gods for creating these gems that can make my legs look as long as they do right now. His

leisurely perusal continues up my body and I meet him with a furious blush. Shit, now my face will match my hair. When he gets to my cleavage, he pauses. The appreciation evident in his gaze causes my demeanor to switch from flustered to confident. By the time his eyes meet mine my smirk is firmly affixed to my face. He returns a smile of his own and my pulse ramps up likes it’s racing in the Indy 500. I can feel the adrenaline flowing through my veins, burning the alcohol in its wake. Declan’s hungry gaze is sobering, but this is way better than a buzz. “So,” I say, mostly to continue this favorable encounter. “What brings you to the darkened hallways of a club? No one told you about the bathroom, did they?” I glance side to side, suspiciously looking for unwelcome bathroom lurkers. It really would be tragic if the secret gets out. “I was hoping to take this secret to my grave, to be honest.” “No, I was just trying to get away from people for a few minutes.” “You were so close and then I showed up and ruined it.” “No, you didn’t ruin anything. You made it better, actually.” I try to contain my blush. “It’s the crowds that get me.” “Ah, not a huge fan of the overheated bodies grinding against yours?” Half knowing what I’m insinuating, I realize it’s official; the alcohol has booted my filter off the premises. I don’t care that I’m no longer under the influence. Details, details. He raises an eyebrow at me. “Something like that. Forced here for Mark’s bachelor party.” I knew Mark. He was a regular on fight nights at The Seventh Circle too. Nice guy, a little shy. I didn’t even know he was engaged. “That’s great! Tell him congratulations for me.” He nods and lifts one side of his lips in what looks to be a mischievous smile. “And what about you. Are you a fan of ‘overheated bodies grinding against yours’? ” Mischievous indeed. I’m too nervous and worked up and sexually frustrated to have this conversation and to conduct myself like a lady. Oh, well. “Actually… I’m a huge fan.” I match his smile with an attempt at a seductive one. I made my decision, and his words the other day did nothing but encourage me. He finally drops his hands from my shoulders and I follow suit, bringing my arms reluctantly back to my sides. He reaches up to rub the back of his neck. Oh, holy hell. Now that I’m no longer glued to him, it’s my turn to take him in. Turnabout’s fair play, after all. I start from the bottom the same way he did. Scuffed black boots meet black jeans that fit him so well they had to be made for him. They showcase his muscular thighs without being too tight. I don’t let my eyes linger too long on his package though; if I do, my face won’t stop flaming until tomorrow. I divert my gaze to the chain he has looping down his jeans, connecting to his wallet in his back pocket. Next, I take in his standard grey T-shirt, slightly stretched across his built chest and topped off with a flannel buttondown hanging open. What I wouldn’t give to peruse him more thoroughly with my hands and mouth… When my gaze lifts to his face, he’s pinning me with a hungry look as if he knows exactly what I was thinking. He just might too. I mean, I haven’t checked my face for drool, but I can’t keep my eyes from telling him exactly what I want and how I want it. He narrows his eyes slightly in a look which tells me clearly that time’s up. Uh-oh.

In an attempt to get myself under control, I lean back against the wall, the temptation to reach for him a little overwhelming at the moment. We seemed to be dancing around something, and I wonder who will stop first. “Anything or anyone special bringing you out tonight?” I narrow my eyes in thought. I wonder if he’s asking what I think he’s asking. There’s only one way to find out. “Not a special occasion, but out with someone special.” He nods and takes a small step back. Hell yes, he’s asking if I’m on a date. Maybe Brandon? This I can work with. “Two someones, actually,” I amend, and his eyebrows lift in surprise. I laugh and put him out of his misery. “Allie and Caitlyn. I’m sure you remember them from the bar.” His tumultuous expression smooths out and he responds, “Yeah, Wiley’s girl and the brunette.” “The very same. We decided to take advantage of a shared day off and get dolled up and dance.” “I don’t know about you dancing, is it safe? I was treated to a few moves the other night and that was pretty violent.” A surprised laugh escapes. “Hey, now! How else was I supposed to dance to hard rock? You’re lucky I wasn’t doing my fist-pump-and-jump move.” Which of course, I proceed to demonstrate, because I’m cool like that. He cringes. “You’re right. Someone could’ve lost an eye.” I stop my display and drop my shoulders dramatically. “Clearly, you know nothing of dancing. I’ll have you know that move is a classic. You wouldn’t have seen Kurt Cobain doing the cabbage patch. You should be ashamed.” He takes a deliberate step closer, which puts him within arms’ reach again. My breath hitches. He reaches out and runs his fingers through a small chunk of my hair, watching as the curl springs back when he reaches the end and then lets it go. He moves that arm to rest against the wall by my head, partially caging me in. I struggle to keep my breath even and appear calm. It would suck if I passed out from lack of oxygen before he made a real move on me. “But you succeeded in getting dolled up. You look beautiful.” He leans his face in close and lets his warm breath touch my neck. I shiver and tilt my head to the side to give him better access. I guess our dancing is over. Yippee. Seeing it as the invitation it is, he lets his lips connect with the skin beneath my ear. He softly teases me with light touches of his lips running up and down. He slowly, mesmerizingly works his way along my jaw. All the while, the finger of his other hand that’s gripping my waist starts stroking. It’s faint at first, but then progressively grows more certain. Holy shit. We haven’t even kissed and I’m ready to lose my panties. “Declan,” I basically whimper. I can’t locate my vocal chords currently, so it’ll have to do. I wait until his stare meets my own. “You haven’t been doing it wrong.” He groans, drops his arm from the wall, and uses it to grip the back of my head firmly, directing me to finally meet his mouth. My pulse pounds in my ears as he starts nipping at my lower lip, lightly running his tongue along the seam until I can’t take it anymore and finally let him in. My fingers flex

in his hair, pulling him even closer. He brings a hand up and fits it to my waist, slowly creating a path of fire down my backside and thighs as he reaches the hem of my dress. I suck on his lower lip, encouraging him to continue; we’ve been dancing around for over a year, and I can’t wait another minute. He slowly and lightly runs his fingers up the inside of my thigh, which makes me stop caring that we’re in a semi-public hallway. His grip on my hair tightens as his fingers reach my pussy. He starts slowly teasing me, his touch too light and so close to where I desperately need him without giving me anything. I whimper in pure frustration through our kiss. He breaks away from my mouth and we both gasp for air. Declan leans his forehead against mine and stares directly into my eyes, watching the effects of his torture manifest on my face. After one last teasing pass, he finally centers and puts pressure behind his fingertips. I nearly jump out of my skin. Fire replaces blood in my veins and my body starts to overheat. I throw my head back against the wall and beg, “Please, don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.” Oh, God, the open-mouthed kisses he’s pressing against my neck are almost too much, making me shake. “Wasn’t going to.” His low, rough voice caresses my neck. “Come on, people, this is a place of business. Cut it the fuck out!” is shouted, presumably at us. Declan stops the motion of his fingers and I want to die. I truly wouldn’t have cared if we’d had an audience, as long as he got to finish what he started. “No, no, no, no. This cannot be happening.” It feels like the pain is slicing me in half. I was so close. I bury my face in Declan’s neck in pain and embarrassment as he angles his back to the voice in an attempt to keep the extent of our actions private. “Shh. It’s all right,” he whispers in my ear. I close my eyes and try to take a few deep breaths to get myself under control again. Louder, he says, “Yeah, all right. You mind giving us a few minutes, here.” All too soon, Declan is slowly pulling away from me. He smiles wickedly at me and straightens the hem of my skirt. “Guess we got a bit carried away.” I completely let go of him after a moment, when I feel confident my legs won’t give way. Something that spectacularly embarrassing does not need to be added to this evening’s pile. I’ll save that for next time. If there is a next time. Oh. please. let there be a next time. “A bit. Definitely. So…” Shit! No! Pull it together, Meg. He had his tongue down your throat; the time for awkward interactions is long past. I start running my fingers through my hair, mostly to give my hands something to do that doesn’t involve grabbing him back to me, and clear my throat. “So, that was… memorable.” He laughs. “Hopefully for one reason more than another.” It has to be a good sign that he’s teasing me, right? “Absolutely. Someone else knows about the secret bathroom.” “Just that?” “Well, mostly. And by the way, I have to kill you now. For the bathroom, I mean. Nothing personal.” He grins and grabs me to him, kissing me briefly but softly. I pull back and leave the ball in

his court. “Well, I better get back. My friends might start wondering where I am.” I push his hair back to get a good look at his face and watch the strands fall to the side of his face. So sexy. Dropping my hand, I walk off, grinning like an idiot the whole way.

CHAPTER 8 MEG A few days later, I still have that stupid smile stuck to my face. I can’t help it. I wish it would go away; my cheeks ache. I haven’t seen Declan since the night at the club, but I have faith that we’re not finished yet. That was a really good kiss. Really fucking good. It’s about two in the afternoon and I’m so amped up I’m cleaning my apartment. Cleaning is usually something I reserve for only when I absolutely have to, but I have so much energy I can’t just sit still and read like I had planned. I have my Pandora rocking out, and I’m singing while dusting around the small place I rent. My apartment isn’t in the best neighborhood around, but the complex is fairly well built so I don’t have to worry about angry calls from my neighbors about noise. Which is a godsend, because I prefer my music on the loud side. Mid-air guitar solo, I feel my butt vibrate. I pull my phone out of my pocket to see if they’re worthy of disrupting My Chemical Romance or not. Without hesitation, I turn off the sound and answer. “Lillian!” I yell excitedly. Lillian is my baby sister and my best friend. She knows me inside and out like no one ever could, and crap do I miss her. “Maggs!” she yells back, equally excited. “Oh, man, it’s so good to hear from you. How are you? How’s school? How’s life? What are you doing? What’s going on?” She laughs loudly at my rapid-fire questions. “Everything is fine, same old, same old, thankfully. Just wanted to call and check in with you. It’s been too freaking long.” And she’s right. It feels like it’s been forever, but I understand why. In order for us to talk, Lillian has to use a prepaid phone so her phone records won’t lead to me. She’s also very careful, which I am infinitely grateful for, and doesn’t do it too often for fear of tipping our hand because we both know he’s keeping tabs on her. “School’s kind of a pain with my course list this semester. I wish they didn’t make me take this programming class. It’s impossible, and the professor still can’t teach worth a damn! I’m convinced the world is separated into two kinds of people: those who can program and those who can’t, and I definitely fall under the ‘cant’s.’ You know what though? I’m okay with that. I’m secure enough in myself to claim that as a failing.” I stop right there to spare myself my own rant. They can take a while. And it does. Ten minutes later, she’s still going on about accidentally hard-coding something, whatever that means. I just respond with indignation on her behalf when appropriate, silently laughing to myself the whole time. “Just let me know when you’re ready to get rid of the body,” I say in response to maiming threats against her professor. “I bet we could find a nice obscure bayou to dump him in.” She sighs. “I haven’t gotten that far yet; it is only the beginning of the semester, after all. Check back with me by midterms though. I may have to take action then.” “I’ll put in on my calendar.”

“Good, but don’t forget to code it or something. Like ‘trash day.’ Oh, wait, no. Not that. That’s too obvious. Try ‘make soup.’ Yeah. That’ll throw them.” “What the what?” “You know? When the cops come searching for clues after his disappearance, you don’t want to have ‘hide body’ on your calendar. Don’t quote me, because I’m not a cop, but I feel like that’s a giveaway.” “You numbskull. You’ve put way too much thought into this already. Should I be worried? Never mind. Too late. I’m worried.” “Nah, don’t be. You would know if I’d killed someone already. You’d be the first person I would tell.” “Aww, that’s sweet.” “What can I say? I’m all heart.” “Cool. Well. Good talk.” She laughs. “So, how are you doing?” I clear my throat. She already knows about my crush on the hot fighter, so I grab a Coke to settle on the couch while I take her through the past couple weeks, starting with my epic rock session that he walked in on. “You goober” is what I got for that. “Hey, I’m a purist, preserving the authenticity of headbanging. Thirty years from now, no one will remember it in the wake of the twerking phenomenon.” “You can’t see this, but just know I’m shaking my head at you.” “Mark my words, woman!” I continue to tell her about Declan. By the time I finish up with what happened at the club, she squeals. Ouch. Her squeals are very screechy. “Hey! Watch the eardrum! I’ve only got two.” “Sorry! It’s just so exciting! I’m so happy for you, that you decided to move on and take a risk.” And there it is. “Have you told him, you know? About… everything?” “Umm, no. One sexy run-in does not exactly require a total gut check. We’re supposed to hold back the crazy, baby sister. Lull the nice gentlemen into a false sense of security and only then do we release the dam of thinly veiled psychosis,” I joke. She isn’t amused. I knew she wouldn’t be. “Maggs. It’s not like you’re hiding a bipolar disorder. You’re holding back on—” “I know what I’m holding back on,” I interrupt, slightly raising my voice. I don’t want to hear it. I live with it. Every. Single. Day. “Just let it go for now, Lily. We may or may not get there, but I’m not sharing the dirty laundry of my life with a virtual stranger.” We’re both silent for a moment with our own thoughts. “Speaking of dirty laundry, how’s it going there?” This is it. The part of our conversations that always makes part of me dread having a phone call with my sister to begin with. She knows exactly what I’m talking about. “Nothing new on this front,” she says quietly. I nod gratefully, even though she can’t see it.

No new developments is good news. It could definitely be worse. I look at the time. Shit, I didn’t realize we’d been on the phone that long. “Hey, Lillian,” I start sadly. “I’ve got to be at work in a little bit.” “I understand. I’ll call again as soon as I can. I love you.” “I love you too,” I respond, and slowly drag the phone from my face to see the call time out. I both love and hate these calls. It’s not fair. *** “Can I get you another one, Dennis?” I’ve been at work a few hours now and yet I still can’t shake the melancholy from my phone call. At least my cheeks are getting a rest from the past days. There’s the silver lining. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t really help. “Of course, sugar. You know I’m not a quitter.” That does get a small smile from me. Leave it to Dennis. “I sure do. Here,” I say, placing a newly filled glass in front of him before walking away to serve more customers. Allie bumps my hip. “Hey now. Why so sad?” She doesn’t know. I had made sure Wiley knew not to share what wasn’t his business. “Nothing, just one of those days, you know?” I lie. She nods understandingly but doesn’t let it drop. “So, let’s see about pulling you from your funk.” I start to say no, but reconsider. She’s right. I need to snap myself out of this, remember how lucky I’ve been and get. The fuck. Over it. I nod decisively. “You’re right. So, what did you have in mind?” *** We head to her place after we get off. She knows I love Tina Fey, so she talked me into renting Sisters and vegging out on her couch with some cheese puffs, because cheese puffs make almost anything better. It’s maybe three in the morning and we’re halfway through the movie, laughing our asses off. My stomach muscles are screaming, but I can’t help it. Few people are funnier to me than Tina Fey. I needed this. “Thank you so much for doing this with me.” She winks at me. “Not a problem, babe. I got you.” We get back to the movie for a little while before she turns and asks me, “Is it something Declan did?” “No. I still haven’t heard from him, but I think I might.” I smile at her and turn back to the movie. Twenty minutes later, the front door opens and interrupts our movie viewing. I hear male voices coming from the foyer and I freeze. No, dammit! Not now. I was supposed to see him again in class, looking awake and wearing cute spandex shit. Not in the middle of the night feeling worn and worse, looking it from my long-ass day. I’d even borrowed a pair of loose gym shorts from Allie when we got here, because with skinny jeans you sacrifice comfort for looking sexy and I didn’t care about looking sexy for Allie.

“Uhhh,” I sputter. “I’m going to run to the bathroom real quick. Then I think I’m gonna head home.” I catch her expression before I run and hide—I mean, use the bathroom. I’m glad someone’s entertained by this. Not. I skitter down the hall and close myself in the bathroom. I’ll just wait until they move outside or at least into the kitchen. Then I can grab my pants and shoes and make a run for it. Excellent plan. I like it. I wait with my ear pressed against the door, staying in that position until I don’t hear voices anymore. When the sound fades and all I hear is silence, I assume they went out back. I seize my opportunity and throw open the door, ready to make my quick escape. Yeah, my quick escape straight into something hard. You have got to be kidding me. A statistician would pee himself to put these odds together. Two bathrooms in two very random geographical locations with the same two people at the same time. Un-fucking-believable. I hear a muffled laugh from somewhere above my head. “I can’t believe it. I’m not following you into bathrooms, I promise.” I bust out laughing, “I was thinking the same thing! What are the chances?” I separate myself from his hold and tell my body to quit its whining. Our encounter the other day had left it tight as a bow string, and right now it’s seeing just the arrow it needs. Ha! “I’m glad I ran into you, actually.” “You are?” Cue innocent eyes. “Yeah. I had fun talking to you the other night. I was thinking I could get your number so we could continue talking?” I tilt my head to the side a little in thought, and his eyes jump to the spot on my neck where he started at last time. Whoa now. Back up. “Just to clarify. You are talking about actual talking, right? Like words and vowels and stuff, right? Not the other… stuff?” I finish lamely. Declan slowly leans his face closer to mine and brushes a stray stand from my forehead. He takes his time in responding, letting that wolfish grin of his develop. I’m oxygen deprived for about twenty second before he finally responds, “Actually, I was thinking we could do both.” Ah. I force myself to take a small step back from him and take a deep, calming breath. “Well, Romeo, how about we start with talking and then see?” He looks a little disappointed, but concedes and saves my number in his phone. Wiley yells out to him through the house, “Dude, get your ass over here. You’ve got to see this shit!” “Catch you later, Meg.” With a last sweeping glance that leaves my face flushed, he walks away. I’m a little flustered as I make my escape. A real one this time.

CHAPTER 9 MEG My phone buzzes with a text message the next afternoon. Declan: I’m glad I ran into you last night. A stupid smile breaks out over my face as I respond. Meg: I’m pretty sure I ran into you. Declan: You’re right. Let me try again. I’m glad you ran into me. Declan: Again. Meg: You’re welcome. ☺ Declan: So, what are you up to right now? Meg: Putting my grocery list together. The mice left a complaint for me this morning. It’s getting serious. Declan: That is bad. But what if I tempted you with an alternative food source for tonight? I try not to laugh at where my dirty mind takes me. Meg: I’m listening. Declan: The Deadpool movie is playing at the drive-in this weekend. Meg: OH! The one with the hottie, Ryan Reynolds? Meg: In spandex? Declan: You’re giving my ego a complex here. Meg: Bull. Your ego is fine. And yes, I would love to go. Meg: Ryan Reynolds is supposed to get naked. I’m so excited for Ryan Reynolds’s thighs! Declan: His thighs? Meg: Yeah. His thighs. Some women prefer hands. Others asses. I’ve always gotten weakkneed over thighs. Declan: You’re weird. Meg: I can live with that. If it means I can see Ryan Reynolds’s thighs. ;-) Declan: So weird. *** I’ve just finished throwing on a light cardigan when there’s a knock at the door. I glance in the mirror once more to make sure I’m decent before I head out. Jeans, flat sandals and a black Vneck T-shirt under my gray cardigan. Casual but cute, and most importantly comfortable. Giving myself the nod of approval, I head to answer the door, scooping my purse and blankets up along the way. I throw the door open and smile wide in greeting. “Hey, Meg. You ready?”

“Definitely.” I close the door and lock up. “What’s with the blanket?” he asks when we settle into his pickup truck and start driving. It’s undeniably nice and new, with its touchscreens and rich leather smell. “Uhh, it’s a drive-in and you have a truck. One’s for us to sit on and the other to cover us.” “Cover us? It’s Houston. We’ll sweat to death.” “Nonsense. It’s supposed to get down in the sixties tonight.” I try to stem the flood of laughter at the disbelieving look he’s shooting me. “What? That constitutes chilly for me.” He just shakes his head, aghast, and I proceed to turn up the radio to rock out to some Drowning Pool. While he’s distracted with driving, I sneak some covert glances out the corner of my eye at him. He’s wearing his standard uniform—black jeans, boots, and T-shirt with a flannel. He even has his flannel shirt rolled up his forearms. Yummy. His hair is in the same disarray it usually is, and looking at it makes my fingers itch to touch it. “Quit looking at me like that,” he says while still facing forward. What the hell? The guy’s got mutant vision. “Like what?” I ask, trying to convey as much innocence in my question as I feasibly can. Declan gives me a quick assessing glance before facing forward again. “Like you want me with a side of fries.” I snort with laughter. I can’t help it. “How dare you! I am not a piece of meat,” he states in mock outrage. He’s trying hard to suppress his smile, but it’s not working and only results in a skewed grimace—which, of course, causes me to laugh harder. When we arrive a few minutes later, he backs into a spot so we can watch from the bed of the truck. He goes to the concession building to grab us a couple burgers and some drinks while I lay out a blanket in the bed for us to sit on. I proceed to kick off my sandals and get comfortable, killing some time people-watching. The lot is packed with cars; people have camp chairs set up randomly, and there are a couple teenagers off to the side throwing a football. It’s a very calm and happy atmosphere, and I really dig it. Declan comes back a little while later and sets our spoils on the tailgate. He hands me my beer before climbing in and sitting back with me. “You should consider being a bartender. That was a primo handoff, sir,” I compliment. “I try, but I’m going to leave it to you. I feel like there’s an unspoken rule: Bartendee must stare at Bartender ’s tits during beverage serving.” He leers at my chest comically, causing me to laugh. “Hmm, well, I do have you there.” We settle back and start in on our burgers. “So, Declan,” I say between mouthfuls, “tell me about yourself.” He shrugs. “Not much to tell.” “You don’t get off the hook that easy.”

He compromises. “Here, let’s try it this way. What do you want to know?” “Everything.” Duh. He just stares at me though. Ugh. Typical man. He finally responds, “Well then, you better start asking or we’ll be here for a while.” “Okay, how about your family? Tell me about them.” “My parents died a few years ago and I’m an only child.” I say with sympathy, “That sucks. I know how you feel. Mine died too, car accident.” He nods absently, no further comment. Fine. “Okay, so you were in the Marine Corps, right?” He nods and chews through a large bite of his burger. “Eight years, four tours.” “Why did you join?” “Same reason any nineteen-year-old joins. Tried the real world, lost direction and didn’t like it, so I went where they would tell me what my direction was. Was a pretty sweet setup, if you don’t count the whole ‘getting shot at’ routine.” “Is that why you got out? You got tired of getting shot at?” I’m honestly curious. Seems to me that kind of exhaustion would present itself within the first six months, but what do I know? “Something like that.” He’s staring at his French fries hard, like they have the answers. I peek over, just in case they do. They don’t. I let the subject drop. “So, what about the MC? I know you served with a few of the guys. Why didn’t you join?” He laughs a little, more to himself than anything. “I thought about it, but I thrive on structure, and being in a motorcycle club is not conducive to any kind of structure. Decided to open my own business where I wouldn’t be behind a desk more often than not.” That’s smart. I nod in acceptance. “And the fighting?” “Pure adrenaline, baby.” I shiver when he calls me ‘baby,’ and he sees it. “Less deadly than bullets, same rush.” “That’s debatable. Someone could snap your neck.” Declan laughs. “You know it’s not mortal combat, right? No one’s fighting to the death?” “It’s still dangerous!” “Of course it is. Where would the fun be if it weren’t?” I roll my eyes. Men. We clean up our trash and situate ourselves just as the movie starts. I pull my other blanket over my lap and he slips an arm behind my back to curl at my waist. Butterflies begin to lose their shit in my stomach and my heart warms. It feels like there’s no safer place in the world. Perfect fucking night. We’re maybe an hour into the movie when Declan starts to play with my hair, running his fingers through it and tugging on the ends. I roll my head onto his shoulder, giving him more room. I love the sensation of having my hair played with; it’s so relaxing. He leans his head down to ghost his lips along my temple and I sigh happily. When Ryan

Reynolds is lying there naked on-screen though, I can’t help it, sitting up for a better view. When Deadpool manages to cover up again, I go to lean back, disappointed it’s over so quickly. Too quickly. Declan takes the opportunity to reposition me before I can sit back. He shifts a leg around me and scoots me over so I’m between his legs and using his chest as a backrest. He brings his arms around me and resettles the blanket so it’s on both of us. I turn my head to look back at him. “Ha! I knew you’d get cold,” I say softly, but no less triumphantly. Don’t want to disturb other movie viewers, after all. Without saying anything, he brings his lips to meet mine and shifts his hands under the blanket. I’m so distracted by what his kiss is doing to me it takes a minute before I realize he has a hand up my shirt, softly stroking my stomach. I break away quickly and look around us to make sure no one is paying attention. They aren’t. “I have to get my confidence back. You were interested in some other man’s thighs. I don’t know that I can handle it.” He sweeps his hand up to cup me through my bra while he’s talking, and I quickly readjust the blanket higher. My body is shaking, half from excitement, half from fear. “Someone’s going to see!” He leans forward and bites my lip gently. “Not if you’re very, very quiet. Think you can do that?” Declan starts kneading my breasts and I groan. “That’s not a good start, baby. You don’t want to tip everyone off. I know the movie is rated R, but I’m not sure this is what they had in mind.” He positions my head forward again to face the movie and brushes the hair from my neck, pressing his lips there in its place. I shut my eyes, just absorbing the incredible sensations he’s stirring up in my body. He unhooks my bra under my shirt like a pro, which I refuse to think about now, and starts pulling on my nipples. I’d warn him he’s got them hard enough to cut glass, but I think he’s got it covered, rolling and pinching them, sending zings of electricity straight to my core. What is it about this guy that has me feeling so out of control? He keeps playing with my left breast and moves his right hand into the waistband of my jeans to my pussy—over my underwear, unfortunately. He starts stroking softly, with the barest of touches. My whole body tenses in anticipation of a firmer touch. I need more. When he gives it to me, I have to slap a hand over my mouth to smother my whimper of relief. Declan’s fingers still. “I have to stop now. You couldn’t be quiet enough.” My pounding heart lodges in my throat. “No,” I manage to squeak out. He nuzzles my neck and takes his hand from my pants and shirt, re-hooking my bra against my sensitive nipples. “People are looking over here.” “I don’t care. Let them look.” I’m desperate. “You won’t feel that way when they arrest us for public indecency.” He chuckles. I roll my eyes. “Fiiine. The next time I get left hanging like this though, I’m going to murder someone.” All too soon, the movie ends and we’re back on the highway to my place. When we get there,

he pulls up into a space but instead of just waiting there with the car idling like I expect, he takes the keys from the ignition and climbs out of the vehicle. Oh, a gentleman. I could get used to this. When I unlock my front door and walk in, I turn to him. He has his arms braced on the door frame, putting his glorious physique on display. I let my eyes crawl down his chest and abdomen to the impressive bulge outlined in his jeans and yes, his thighs. My gaze lingers, and I essentially end up asking his thighs if they want to come in. He drops his arms and steps forward, putting a hand under my chin to lift my face close to his. He draws in slowly and when his warm breath fans my face, my eyes flutter closed in anticipation. He presses a soft, much-too-brief kiss against my lips and backs away, dropping his hand from my face. “No. I think I want to make you pay for staring at another man’s thighs.” My jaw drops. He’s not serious, right? Right? Declan starts laughing at my expression and says softly, “Goodnight, Meg.” With that, he turns around and walks out, closing the door behind him. Motherfucker.

CHAPTER 10 MEG The next day, I’m at Corps Strength, taking advantage of my membership and running on a treadmill, trying to work out my pent-up frustration before class. When I hit the five-mile mark, I lower the speed some to start my cooldown. My text message sound interrupts Linkin Park in my headphones. Looking down at the screen propped on the treadmill, I see a waiting text message from Declan asking what I’m up to. Meg: Getting some cardio in before class. Declan: I had you pegged as the overachiever. I love being right. Meg: Overachiever? Says the guy with rippling six-pack abs? Declan: ;-) Glad you noticed. I slap my hand over my mouth to cover my laugh. Walked right into that one. I head over to the open area with mats covering the floor and pick a spot in the corner to set down and start my stretching. I run through a few basic poses that I find really help loosen me up. I’m in downward-facing dog stretching my hamstrings when my phone chirps again. Maintaining my position, I scoot the phone over to take a look. Declan: If you could rotate yourself maybe fifteen degrees to your left, you would make my day much better. Apparently, I have an audience now. No pressure. Meg: You perv. I’m exercising here. Isn’t there a rule about student-teacher harassment? Declan: Sure is. “Teachers should harass the students, or better yet students should harass the teachers.” I’m an equal opportunity employer. Meg: What mental pigmy wrote those rules? Declan: I did. And you’ll be praising these rules later when I’m directing my harassment to your pussy. I drop from my latest pose onto my butt. Meg: That escalated quickly. Declan: Not quickly enough. I’m dying for another taste of you. Without having to stop this time. I look up, suddenly paranoid someone’s looking over my shoulder and reading the dirty messages on my screen. Satisfied no one is in the area, I look back at my phone. Declan: I know you want it too. You almost came from just a few strokes of my fingers. Imagine how good it’ll be when I finally get inside you. Oh, God, I could imagine. I really could. Declan: See you soon. Soon? I check the time. Shit. He worked me up just to torture me. Now we have to go through class together with a room full of oblivious strangers. Fine. Two can play at this game.

*** I have done my utmost for the past thirty or so minutes trying to taunt him back. I can’t do it with words like he did, but I use my workout attire to my benefit. Sweaty brow? Well, why don’t I use the hem of my shirt? What? It exposes my stomach and part of my sports bra? Darn, I’m sorry! Except I’m not. It’s so worth it to see his eyes dilate and watch him pick up a pad to hold in front of him. Definitely not because his erection is very clearly swelling beneath his gym shorts, which would be obvious if anyone cared to look. And boy, do I care to look. I snicker to myself. He throws me an evil look that I question, but only for a minute before he calls out a partner change. That jackass. The reason for his smile becomes apparent when he pairs me with the fiercest person in class. Leslie is not kidding around; she’s a woman on a mission. Unfortunately, that makes her an undesirable partner. She hits so hard it hurts through the pad, and when it’s her turn to put you in a chokehold, she grips hard enough to cut off circulation to your brain. I’m curious to know what happened to her, but at the same time she scares me. So, yeah, I’m going to take a pass on that heartto-heart. We’re doing sixty-second drills with punches and it’s my turn to hold the pad. Closing my eyes because it’s too scary to watch, I brace myself. About forty seconds in, the constant hammering has caused my grip to slip and she lands a direct hit on my left shoulder. I fall to my ass and let out a louder than I would have liked “Son of a bitch!” Everyone in the room stops to stare. Leslie just looks confused. Declan quickly comes over and squats in front of me. “Hey, you all right?” Gripping my shoulder hard in an effort to stem the pain, I grunt out, “Hurts like a bitch.” “Come with me, we’ll take a look and get you some ice.” He grabs my waist and lifts me to my feet so I don’t have to let go of my shoulder. If I weren’t in so much pain, that would’ve been so hot. Stupid Leslie. Walking me out of the room, above my head he calls out, “Hey, Mark, go take over drills.” He leads me down the hallway and into a room with a padded table in the center and a counter with a sink running along one wall. Closing the door behind us, he lifts me again by the waist to sit me on the table. “All right, let’s take a look.” I stare at him. He waits a minute then clarifies, “You have to move your hand out the way for me to see.” I continue to just look at him. “No, I think I’m good. Thanks though.” I’m terrified of loosening my grip and letting the pain flood back. “Come on, don’t you want my hands all over you, rubbing you down?” he needles, eyebrows wiggling in an effort to make me laugh. My eyes narrow, recalling he’s the one who put me in the situation to begin with. I liked Pottery Rob as my partner, and Declan was the one who changed us out. Suddenly overcome with anger, I release the hold on my shoulder to poke my index finger into his chest. In the back of my mind, I notice the pain isn’t really so bad anymore, but I ignore that nugget of knowledge in favor of my anger which takes center stage and I can’t seem to stop it. “You. This is your fault!” “My fault?” He’s confused. Well, allow me to un-confuse him!

“Yes, your fault. You’re the one who took away Pottery Rob. I love Pottery Rob,” I shout, punctuating my last statement with repeated pokes of my index finger against his chest. He still looks baffled. “Pottery Rob was a better partner! He didn’t have a Xena: Warrior Princess complex going on! He wouldn’t have punched me,” I explain, exasperated that he’s still not understanding and falling to his knees in apology. “You’re my problem! Every time I talk to you, you leave me more frustrated and angry than the last! What is with you? Why do you keep doing this to me?” A look of confident understanding smooths his previously furrowed brows, and my eyes narrow in return. “What? Why are you smiling? You aren’t supposed to smile. You’re supposed to apologize!” He leans forward, propping his hands on the table on either side of my body, caging me in. He’s so close I can feel his breath against my lips. “No, Meg. You don’t want an apology. Lucky for you, I know exactly what you want.” My anger transforms to lust as quickly as it came on and I feel my eyelids grow heavy. Sensing victory, he moves in, pressing his lips fiercely to mine. I’m still on the edge from his earlier teasing, and I immediately open my mouth to give him access. Which reminds me… I pull back. “Wait! I’m still mad at you!” He pulls me to the edge of the table by my thighs and fits himself between my legs, his swollen cock pressed deliciously against my center. Sensations start zinging every which way through my core. “I know you are, but I also know why. Do you know why, Meg?” He rubs against me, successfully distracting me, working his hands from my waist to my breasts. Overcome and desperate for more, I grab his hair with both hands to pull him towards me, feeling only a twinge in my shoulder at the movement. I need his mouth again but he resists, holding his face just a hairsbreadth from my lips. “I asked you a question.” “You did? 42.” He chuckles. “No, Meg. I asked if you knew why you were angry.” Oh, right. “Yes, because you let me get punched. Or close enough.” He moves away just long enough to pull my tank top over my head. He leans right back in where he was and brushes my abdomen with the cotton of his T-shirt. I need his skin, not cotton. I reach out to grab the hem of his shirt and yank up. He lets me, and soon our upper bodies are almost skin to skin, with just my sports bra remaining. Stupid bra. He grips my ponytail hard and brings his mouth back to mine. I reach around to undo the four hooks at the back and quickly sling it off my shoulders. It’s perfect, his chest hard and warm pressed against my soft and increasingly heavy breasts. I groan at the sensations. He bites my lower lip firmly then moves his mouth down to suck on one nipple while a hand rolls and pulls on the other one. I push his head harder against me, hoping he’ll take more of me in his mouth. As usual, he resists and I groan in frustration. I need more and he’s going so slow—too slow. He removes his mouth and lightly pushes me flat against the table, leaning down over me. Declan follows me down and tongues the sensitive spot beneath my ear. I lift my legs to prop my heels on the edge of the table and groan when his cock fits right back against me where it belongs. I gratefully start to grind, but he lifts away. I let out an unladylike noise of frustration. If he walks away now, I’m going to stab him.

Declan laughs huskily and trails his hands from my chest, down my belly to hook two fingers on the waistband of my spandex workout pants. I lift a little to help him get them off me, leaving me lying on the table like a sacrificial lamb in only my boy-short panties as he stares at me. “You’re angry because I’ve worked you up and left you hanging.” He trails his hands up the inside of my thighs and I shiver. One hand brushes against my core so softly it’s not even enjoyable. It’s tortuous, almost cruel, and I begin to pant. “You’re angry because I’ve been taunting you, never coming through.” Declan finally, finally, moves to add my panties to the pile on the floor. “Shit. You’re so fucking wet.” He’s right. He torments me with his fingers only briefly before entering me with them. “Yes,” I answer—unnecessarily, in my opinion, but shit if it gets him to hurry up… “Please, I need you now. More.” His fingers start plunging in and out and I can feel myself get closer to orgasm, but I want more of him. I lean up and fit my mouth to his. Declan starts mimicking his fingers, thrusting his tongue in and out of my mouth. I reach forward with both hands to pull him closer to me. Suddenly, I feel him curl his fingers and start rubbing at a spot so sweet inside me my whole body freezes, including my lungs. I can’t breathe, but I need more. “Oh, God, oh, God. Again, please. Please, don’t stop.” He moves his other hand from resting on my thigh and drags his fingernails up my abdomen, causing my back to arch clear off the table. He brings it back down and lightly slaps my clit once, twice, and that’s all it takes. My whole body explodes as pure pleasure ripples through every muscle, turning it weightless. *** When the waves finally ease to a stop, I open my eyes to see Declan standing exactly where I remember him, his fingers still inside me. I look up into his face to see him smiling like the Cheshire Cat. Slowly, I feel him remove his fingers, which I really appreciate as it is extremely sensitive down there at the moment. He lifts his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean of me. So hot. If I had any energy at all, I’d go down on him just for that. There’s a knock at the door. “Dude, Jason’s here.” He glances at the clock on the wall. “Shit. He’s early.” “You can tell him that. He’s waiting in your office.” My gaze travels down his muscular form, appreciating the colorful sleeves decorating his arms in contrast to his ink-free torso. I love it. The lack of ink lets me clearly see every divot and dent of his muscles, and there are oh so many. Gradually, I make my way down to his clearly defined V, leading me directly to his still-throbbing and very sizable erection barely contained beneath his shorts He follows my gaze and shrugs. “Next time. I think we’ve been conspicuous enough today.” My eyes flare wide accompanying a swift intake of breath. He’s right. We seem to keep doing that. “Well, I’m not angry at you anymore,” I joke weakly. He chuckles and bends down to hand me my clothes. I jump off the table and start dressing. When we’re both relatively put together, he cups my jaw in his hands and kisses me. “You go ahead, I need a minute. Need to spend a few minutes thinking about Hillary Clinton or something.” I laugh. “Ew. You have fun with that.”

“Now get out of here.” He lets go of my jaw and drops his hands to his sides. “I need to focus on dick-shriveling shit, and you’re not helping.” “Uh, sorry?” “I’m sure.” He slaps my ass and I head through the door laughing, closing it behind me.

CHAPTER 11 MEG “Was it glorious? He just seems like the guy type of guy who could make it glorious,” Allie says between bites of her burger. After I booked it out of the gym, I asked Allie to meet me for lunch. I needed to spill my guts before I screamed about my awesome encounter to the world. “How exactly do you peg someone for that? Is there like a radar I can buy?” “Nah, I’ve got one built in. It’s something about their smirks. The cockier their smirks are, without bordering on the lewd side, is directly proportional to their bedroom performance capabilities. But that’s such a good idea. If only I could build and market my mad skills in the form of a cleanly packaged product. Just point it at someone and it would read out on the screen ‘go’ or ‘no go.’ That would save so much time and heartache for women everywhere.” I snort. “But you haven’t answered my question yet.” I sigh happily. “It was most definitely glorious. So much so that when you look in the dictionary under ‘glorious,’ you see a picture of Declan.” She sighs dramatically and places her head in her hands with a mocking dreamy look on her face. I lean forward and knock her arms out from under her. “Hey, now. Don’t make me tell your boyfriend you’re skeeving on someone else.” “You wouldn’t do that. Believe me, no one wins if you do that. I wouldn’t get any, and then you wouldn’t get any when Wiley puts Declan six feet under. So really, it’s in your best interest to keep this to yourself.” She has a point. “So, how is Wiley? I haven’t seen him at the bar for a little while.” “You know.” She shrugs. “Club stuff keeping him busy.” That’s a loaded statement coming from Allie. She hates when Wiley leaves her in the dark— which, unfortunately for her, is most of the time. I respect why he does it though, and I know she does too on some level. The less she knows, the safer she is. Such is the life of an MC old lady, and I don’t envy it one bit. “He’s been kind of pissy at me though,” she continues. “Why? Male PMS?” “Nah, it’s not his fault. I haven’t been giving it up quite so much recently. Haven’t been feeling well. Sometimes it sucks being female.” “Blasphemy!” I cry. I point the French fry that had been halfway to my mouth at her accusingly. “Quick. Grab a boob. That’ll make you feel better.” Because really, who doesn’t like boobs? And when you’re female, you get your own set. I fail to see how you don’t win being female. She erupts in body-shaking laughter. “You’re such a retard. And I would grab them, believe me, but they hurt too much recently.” I freeze, realization washing over me. “Uh, Allie? Have you taken a pregnancy test?” She stops laughing and glares at me. “That’s not fucking funny.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not adding that to my stand-up routine. I’m serious.” Her face morphs into horror. “I’ve got to go. I’ll catch you later.” I nod in understanding. “Call me later.” Wow. I can’t imagine what I would do in her situation. I don’t even know if Wiley wants kids. Shit, I don’t even know if Allie wants kids; we never talked about it. I’m only twenty-six and haven’t been in a serious relationship in quite some time, so I guess I always figured I could worry about it later. Allie’s twenty-nine though, and Wiley’s in his mid-thirties. Maybe this is their later? I think they’d make seriously cute kids. I can imagine a little girl with Wiley’s dimples and Allie’s attitude. I smile to myself. That kid would be unstoppably adorable. Shit, now my head is filled with tiny onesies and even tinier chubby smiles. There’s just something about kids when they smile; it’s like the joy doesn’t just show on their face but their whole body. Their tiny legs kick like they’re so happy they can’t contain their excitement in just their faces. I would love to be the recipient of that kind of joy one day. I feel my dreamy smile fall from my face. That won’t happen anytime soon though. Aside from not being in a committed relationship, which I would definitely prefer, I need my life back first. And that is easier said than done. I shake my head, focusing back on Allie. This is for them to work out and anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself. She may not even be pregnant. *** “I’m pregnant.” I almost laugh to myself, but I know that’ll earn me a punch so I keep my expression carefully neutral. Allie just pulled me down the bar away from where patrons were occupying barstools. I glance around to make sure no one could still hear. Satisfied, I look back at her and say, “And how do we feel about that?” “Fucking terrified.” “Well, that’s a pretty legit feeling, but what about long-term feelings?” I hedge carefully. She looks down. “Happy. Excited.” She glances up beneath her lashes at me. “I don’t know how Wiley will feel though. We never talked about it.” “Gotta tell him soon, Allie. He’ll be angry if he finds out you’re keeping something from him.” She nods. “I will.” I lean forward and give her a hug; she looks like she could use it. When she lets go, she reaffirms in a more decisive voice, “I will.” She walks away to a customer who’s waving her down, and I get back to work. I laugh to myself as a thought crosses my mind. Wiley’s going to be a hundred times more protective than he is now. It’s going to be fun working here for the next few months. I wonder if I can put a pool together to see how many people Wiley punches for any kind of imagined slight against his baby mama.

Oh, yeah. This is going to be awesome.

CHAPTER 12 MEG It’s been a day and a half since I’ve seen or heard from Declan. I could text him, but he did have his fingers in me the last time I saw him so I decide to be a lady and let him come to me. He doesn’t disappoint, either. He walks into the bar at about ten o’clock and grabs a stool at the far end of the bar from where I am. I turn back to Dennis, who I was talking to before Declan walked in and distracted me. I catch the tail end of his sentence, “… rhinestones for your vagina.” What the fuck? “Huh?” He winks. “Just checking if you’re paying attention.” On a more disturbing level, he says, “I know shit. I get around.” Ew. “I’m walking away now.” He barks out a laugh that follows me down the bar. “Hey, Declan.” I look around him for his usual drinking buddies. When I realize no one’s with him, I ask, “Where’s your fellow troublemakers?” “Came alone tonight.” I raise my eyebrows in question. His answer is a smile. My heart stutters. He came here for me. Biting back a smile, I grab him his usual Shiner and hand it to him. “Thanks.” He looks around at the crowd. “You guys are pretty busy tonight.” “Not too bad. It lets me catch up between fight nights. When are you fighting Martinez, anyway?” “Tomorrow.” “Are you ready?” His response is his trademark smirk and I laugh. Cocky bastard. “Okay, okay. I take it back.” I point my finger at him. “You better be though. I’m going to bet money on you and if I lose it, I’m going to take it out on you.” He laughs. “That’s more incentive to lose than it is to win, beautiful.” Gulp. “But I’ll see what I can do.” Attempting to change the subject, I ask, “How was your afternoon yesterday?” My mouth dries up and I start blushing furiously when I see his pupils dilate. “I mean your appointment. How was your appointment?” Declan’s gaze lands on the pulse throbbing at my neck, but he lets it pass without comment and just answers my question. Thank God. “It went well. I’ve got a buddy getting out of the service soon, and he wants to open an auto shop. Trying to hook him up with my real estate developer since he wants to open up around here.” Real estate developer? That sounds very adulty. “How old are you, anyway?” “Thirty-one. Why? That too old for you?” I decide to tease him, pursing my lips and narrowing my eyes in exaggerated thought. “You know? I think you might be. I think you’d be more at home with Dennis’s crowd, now that I think about it. Oh, well. It was fun while it lasted.” I throw the bar towel over my shoulder and go to walk

away. My brain registers the sound of a stool clattering to the floor at the same time I feel hands at the back of my hair and on my neck. I gasp in surprise as Declan’s lips land on mine. Whoa. Note to self: Declan does not like to be teased about his age... I need to do it more often if this is what it gets me. He nibbles on my lips and I get lost in the feeling, forgetting that we’re in public—my place of employment, no less. I’m completely focused on the sandalwood and soap smell that is Declan and the tingles he’s causing to race through my nervous system. As if my vagina needs any more encouragement. All too soon, he pulls away. I try to follow him until the bar digs painfully into my rib cage, making it clear physics won’t let me go further. I pull back and use the bar for support, slowly peeling my eyelids open to stare at him. “Still too old for you?” “No?” I respond, but it comes out as question. I clear my throat and try again, my voice much surer. “No.” There. Nailed it. I stare directly into his dilated green gaze and blurt out, “I think you’re perfect for me.” And I mean it in every sense. This guy gets to me like no man ever has, and I don’t want him to stop whatever spell he has over me. I straighten up and run my hands through my hair, just trying to give my suddenly awkward hands something to do. I try to get us back on track. And by ‘us’ I mean ‘me.’ “So, your buddy’s a mechanic. That’s cool. I wish I knew how to do more to my car. In the back of my head, I’m always worried I’ll end up on the side of the road in the middle of the night, not knowing how to change a tire, and praying triple A will hurry up before one of those ‘good Samaritans,’—” I air quote “—comes along and tries to take the car off my hands, or worse, my life.” I stop myself. I’m babbling, and I know it. Declan just studies me carefully for a moment, head tilted. I try not to fidget. I’m mentally putting a lock on my tongue so I don’t start on a new rant just to distract myself. “Is that why you take self-defense? You’re afraid someone would try to take advantage of you?” he finally asks. “You’ve clearly been at it longer than my classes.” Uh-oh, danger zone. Verbally back away. Slowly. “Something like that,” I hedge the same way he’s done, glancing everywhere but at him. “I just wish I knew a little more about being on the offense, you know? I don’t want to have to wait for an attack to react; I want to be proactive. Sense the awful direction an encounter is headed, strike first, and runaway quickly.” Finally looking back at him, I see Declan nodding thoughtfully, palms planted on the bar. “I understand. Street brawling, effectively. That also happens to be something I can help you with.” “Are you offering classes in ass-kickery?” “In a sense. I’m offering you a class in ass-kickery.” His lips quirk in humor. I pause, shocked. “You’d do that for me?” “Yeah, why not? It’ll help you feel safer, and it’ll help my technique to go back and refresh myself on the basics.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal. I assure you it is a. Huge. Freaking. Deal. He’s offering to take time out of his busy schedule running his business, teaching classes, and training for his fights to teach me just so I’ll have more peace of mind. He isn’t dismissing my fears with eye rolls and a ‘that’ll never happen’ attitude, and he

isn’t just telling me best of luck. He’s willing to do the work. For me. Seeing the genuine warmth in his face and in his offer, my heart starts trying to beat its way out of my chest. I can feel the world reorient around me. This is the moment it happens. The moment my heart leaps from my chest and nestles in his palm to do with what he will. Everything from this moment on is uncertain except that if he walks away, I’ll never be the same. I place my hands on his warm ones and try to convey how I feel without freaking him out. “Thank you, Declan.” I pause, trying to bolster my suddenly breathy voice. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me.” He shifts his gaze from mine and pulls his hands away, a little uncomfortable, and downs the rest of his beer. “Listen, I’m going to head out. Let me know when you’re off so we can get started.” Confused by his abrupt reaction, I merely tell him, “Sounds good. I’ll check the schedule and text you later.” He gives me a chin lift, leaves some money on the bar, and heads out. I must not have hidden the crazy as well as I thought. I shrug to myself. Awkward exit, yes, but he made it clear his offer was still in place, so that’s what I’ll cling to.

CHAPTER 13 MEG I sent Declan my days off the next day when the new schedule came out. He responded to tell me to meet him at Corps Strength Saturday evening at seven. That’s it, none of his usual teasing. I tried analyzing the events of the other night over and over, flipping it around in my head, and still no informative epiphany. Maybe I had a bat in the cave? I’d probably act a little odd with someone who had a visible booger too. Well, whatever the case may be, it’s been added to my calendar for now. Declan’s fight is tonight and I’m working the bar with Caitlyn; at least this gives me the chance to corner him if he’s still being weird. Tonight also happens to be St. Patrick’s Day, which traditionally for the bar means costumes. I’ve pulled out the big guns, just in case. I’ve come too far to turn back now. I’m told the tradition started a few years ago when a patron came in dressed mockingly as St. Patrick with a rubber snake. Each year, more and more people would dress up as nymphs, leprechauns, and such. Now it’s basically a second Halloween around here—a green one. I’m decked out in a genie costume, complete with sheer harem pants and a short bra-like vest for a top. My whole midsection is open for public viewing, and my boobs are on display in all their magnificence. I can’t pull off the short stuff like Caitlyn’s booty shorts for her ninja turtle costume, but thank God Mother Nature counteracted these freaking hips with something equally distracting. It’s about eight before I see Declan walk in. I’d just delivered a round of drinks to the Barbie look-a-likes. Literally. The bleached bimbos are dressed in varying green outfits complete with the “B” backpacks, just like the plastic doll. My internal grumbling at the strange women is cut short when I catch Declan frozen, staring at me. He hasn’t said a word, but his dumbstruck expression instantly lifts my spirits. I grin and walk to him, hesitating when I reach him. He hasn’t exactly declared to me that we’re dating, so I don’t know how to react to him when we’re the center of attention. Before my smile can falter though, he pulls me to him and kisses me deeply. He holds me tight for a moment, weaving his hands into my hair. My insides warm at the affection. When he pulls back, he says, “I can’t let you watch the fight looking like this. I’m liable to get distracted and get a boner. These guys might actually start to think they’re attractive.” I laugh loudly and pull back to spin for him, milking it. “You like?” He expels a harsh breath and runs a hand through his hair, tugging on the ends. “Hell fucking yes, I like.” He steps closer once again so he’s whispering in my ear. “I like so fuckin’ much I’m going to demand you wear it when you do finally suck my dick.” Blood races to the surface of my skin. I glance around to make sure no one’s watching and respond, “Yes, master,” teasing him. He groans. “Shit. I’m trying to behave and you’re trying to kill me. This is not fuckin’ fair. I can’t keep doing this.” Suddenly, he stands up straight and eyeballs the crowd surrounding us before turning back to me. “You get a break?” I nod, enraptured by the look of pure lust in his eyes. He nods decisively. “Good. You’re taking it now.” “Caitlyn! I’m taking my break!” I barely get it out before he throws me over his shoulder and walks through the courtyard to the back building. I giggle and get my ass smacked, which of course only makes me giggle more. So this is what it feels like, huh? When a guy goes caveman on you?

My laughter has barely subsided when he finally puts me down. My surroundings fade into black in the wake of Declan’s eyes—hunger so pure I should probably be worried. But I’m not. I know the hunger in my eyes matches his. I need him. He slowly presses me back to lie down on the couch behind me. I watch him as he stands there, silent and still. He’s taking me in. I can feel every muscle in my body contract in anticipation of his touching me. I’ve come such a long way since three years ago. Declan’s coiled muscles standing over me only incites a fierce craving, one I feel physically and emotionally. It’s a craving for more. I never would’ve thought I’d be capable of feeling or even wanting this type of connection again, with anyone. But I already know I wouldn’t feel this way with just anyone. I know it’s only for Declan— sweet, thoughtful, funny Declan. He’s the only man to convince me to take a risk again. And I know exactly how to thank him. He’s still standing in front of me, staring down at me, when I sit up and scoot to the edge of the couch. I stand directly in front of him, leaning in close to push his flannel shirt off his shoulders. Declan registers a look of wonder at my actions. He’s always been the aggressor in our interactions —until now. Conscious of his curiosity, I slowly run my fingers under his shirt, just above the waistband of his jeans. He groans and reaches for my hips to pull me closer. I lift his T-shirt over his head and trail my fingers down his chest as his shirt falls to the floor. When I reach the divots that define his delicious abs, I switch from the soft sensation of my fingertips to raking my fingernails down his warm skin to the fly on his jeans. At his rapid inhalation, I can’t hold back my smile. I love that I have such an effect on him. I’m basking in the confidence his reactions give me. He makes me feel like Helen of Troy— irresistible. Slowly, I release the button of his fly and his zipper, torturing him with the sound of each metal tooth coming undone. Declan’s chest is rising and falling harshly and I’ve barely even touched him. I push him back a step to give me room to kneel in front of him. I knew that would turn him on more to see me on my knees, and I’m proven right when he sinks his fingers into the back of my hair and says, “Fuck, Meg. You’re a goddamned wet dream.” I don’t say anything; I think I’m as turned on as him, and I don’t even have a face in my crotch. I work his jeans and boxer briefs down his hips just enough to free his cock. Declan is now shirtless in front of me, cock jumping, just waiting for my mouth and… I’m in a genie costume. This is what pornos are made from, people. I can’t hold back a breathy laugh from my thoughts. He controls my head by my hair and makes me look up at his face, his expression intense. “You laughing at my dick?” I peek up at him through my lashes, watching his reaction as I wrap my hand around said dick firmly. I slowly pull my hand along his shaft to the tip, then all the way back down to his pelvic bone. Declan throws back his head and hisses through his clenched teeth, question forgotten. He’s too distracted to press and that empowers me further. I keep my right hand at the base of his shaft and roll his balls around in my left. Slowly, I lower my mouth to his tip, swiping my tongue all the way around it before sinking my mouth as far onto his cock as I can go without choking. I watch his face the whole time, sweat breaking out on his brow. Backing off his cock, I drag the flat of my tongue along the sensitive underside all the way until my mouth pops off. His fingers tense in my

hair. I know he’s fighting just shoving it in my mouth, and I’m grateful. For now. I want to torment him a little, the same way he did me. I suck the tip back into my mouth and press my tongue into the slit at the tip. When he groans, I suck my cheeks in and take him to the back of my throat, swallowing so my muscles constrict on his head. I work my hand on his shaft as I pull my mouth back to the tip. It’s not long before he can’t take anymore, his breaths becoming harsh and irregular. Declan finally ends the torture and takes control, steadying my head and thrusting in and out of my mouth. The rough, unrelenting handling has my panties soaked. I look up at his face to see his jaw clenched and his nostrils flaring, staring down at me. “Your mouth is perfect,” he rasps. “I’m going to come, Meg.” I know he’s giving me the opportunity to move, but I stay put, swallowing him all until I feel his muscles stop tensing beneath my fingertips. I sit back and work on calming my own abused lungs. I’m still worked up, but I’m too gratified in my newfound ability to cause Declan to unravel. I glance up at him, exhilarated and content, hoping to see my expression mirrored on his face. Declan isn’t looking at me though. His lids are still heavy and his gaze is everywhere around the room, except on me. Then I glimpse the muscle ticking in his jaw. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Declan looks almost…. angry? I have no idea why though. One of us just came and it wasn’t me; he should be nowhere near anger. He starts hastily putting his clothes back in place, further confirming my thoughts. Confused, I stand up and place my hands on his forearms to still him, to make him look at me. “Declan?” I feel more than see the colorful skin underneath my hands jumping, his muscles alternating between flexed and relaxed. After a few seconds’ hesitation, he finally turns back to me, looking but not seeing. He leans forward and kisses my forehead lightly. I pause to enjoy it, but he doesn’t linger. He immediately returns to putting himself back together—putting unnecessary concentration into it, if you ask me. I don’t understand what’s happened, but I do know I need to get back to work. I glance around, finally taking in our surroundings. At least he had the foresight for privacy; he led us to a small, fairly bereft room some of the fighters use to get their head straight before their fights. I’m just glad the door locks. I decide to play dumb to his unexpected mood swing because it’s the safest. I lean up and kiss him quickly on the lips once he has his pants zipped. “I better get back to work.” He nods. That’s it. He nods. I mean, I don’t expect a thank you card, but a word or two might not be out of place. Rubbing the sudden ache in my temples, I make a quick getaway, wondering what went wrong.

CHAPTER 14 MEG The next morning, I’m lounging on my couch and trying to get lost in the latest Skyla Madi novel. My mind still wants to wander to Declan, and I keep having to shut it down. It’s getting annoying. Stupid Declan. I wonder what the hell happened. Considering the outcome, I’d say I had a flawless execution, or if not flawless, still pretty damn good. Ugh. They say men are easy to read, that they’re simple creatures, but I call bullshit. Also, I want to meet ‘they.’ To smack them. My phone rings and saves me from imagining untold harm on a faceless ‘they.’ Thankfully. I pray it’s Declan as I turn the screen to read it. Not Declan. “Hiya, Lillian.” “Hiya, Maggs! Holy shit, I have such good news! But you have to guess! No, wait, that’ll take forever. I mean the chances—” Oh, no. This could go on for a while. “Out with it!” “Oh, yes, sorry. I saw Ben.” My heart drops. “Are you okay, Lily? Do I need to call the police?” “No, no, nothing like that. Geez, how shitty is your memory? I just said ‘good’ news, remember?” “Ohmigod, Lily, out with it before I strangle you through the phone!” “I saw Ben on a date!” “On a date?” Is she being serious? Of course she is; Lily wouldn’t screw with me like that. But how? Is she sure it was Ben? How is she sure it was even a date? Has my stalker moved on to someone else? Am I finally free? Thoughts are ping-ponging around in my skull. Feelings of anxiety and euphoria flood through my system, battling for dominance. “On a date with who?” I ask, my throat constricting around the words. “Another woman, Maggs.” This woman is going to drive me to drink, I swear. My frustration helps me to find my voice once more. “I’m well aware it wasn’t me. I meant do you know who it was?” “Never seen her before in my life, but she kind of looks like you—I mean, when your hair was brown. And while I get that that’s disturbing on a whole other level, I’m not going to stall on the creep factor, but instead move on to the celebration part of the program… Yay!” “Wow.” Because really, I don’t know what else to say. Is it over… Or is it too good to be true? My heart races at the prospect, either one. “Lily, where did you see him? And how did you know it was a date and not a cousin?” “He was at the PJ’s by the lakefront.” Which is located right by the university. Did Ben want her to see him? Was it planned? “And eww. Because he kissed her. I know Ben’s a lot of things, but he never did strike me as a hillbilly.” “Do you normally go there?” I ask, ignoring her attempt at humor.

“Not anymore. I used to, but I got lazy and just decided to make do with the coffee that’s on campus.” “How long since you’ve been there?” Did Ben not know she didn’t go there anymore? Or was it not intentional? He didn’t live too far from there, so it was feasible he had a date meet him there for coffee. I’m starting to hyperventilate. My brain is telling me to accept it, take it at face value so I can stop looking over my shoulder, but my gut says to be careful. I start pacing back and forth to direct some of my energy. “Not since midterms last semester so… seven or so months ago? I was jonesing for a banana nut muffin though and the cart on campus was out, so I decided to make the drive.” “Did he see you?” I collapse back on the couch behind me. “No, I saw them sitting at a table outside when I was scoping for a parking space. When I realized it was him, I just kept driving and went right back to campus. I didn’t want to chance an interaction.” I stand up and start pacing again. “That was smart… Wow, Lily. I don’t even know what to do. My mind is going in a million different directions, and I can’t seem to pin down just one.” “Stop, woman! Listen to me. Stop pacing.” She knows me too well. I stop shuffling my feet. “Take a deep breath, in and out.” She pauses while I follow her directions. “Good, again... Now, there’s no reason to freak out, okay? I’m going to tell you what we’ll do, okay? Still with me?” I nod and she knows it. “Good. We’re going to keep doing exactly what we’ve been doing for the foreseeable future. There’s no reason to drop all our precautionary measures for one single event. Relax., Maggs.” I hear the smile in her voice. “This may be the beginning of the end.” Finally getting my breathing under control, I say, “I know, Lily. I think I’m more worried that it’s not. What if it was a setup meant for you?” The weight of it all comes crashing down on my shoulders, “What if I never get my life back, Lily?” Tears start welling up in my eyes as the sadness takes hold. “Stop it right now, Margaret Elizabeth Bergeron!” Her use of my real name makes me cry harder. “Maggs! Shut the fuck up!” “You… shut… the… fuck… up!” My words are interrupted by my sobs. She just laughs at me. “Come on, honey, relax. I’m trying to make you feel better and hand you a rope to pull you off the ledge, and you just keep trying to hang yourself with it. Come on now, pull your shit together. This will get you nowhere.” I hiccup and gulp down some air. She’s right. Still! Why’s she got to be so practical? “Bitch,” I say when I’ve calmed myself down from my mini-meltdown. Although, I’m thankful she’s not letting me have this pity party. She has no patience for that kind of crap. She’s definitely a person who prefers to deal with problems head-on and not with tears. She laughs. “Whore.” “I love you.” “I love you too.” “Good… Now make me feel better,” I half-heartedly demand. “Finally. I’m telling you that you need to chill the fuck out. This is a good thing, but we’ll be

careful and keep up the same way we have been. For now. You will get your life back eventually. Maybe not tomorrow, but you’re happy with where you are and what you’re doing right now, aren’t you?” “Yes,” I say slowly. “Good, then we hope for the best and keep our fingers crossed. Everything happens for a reason, Maggs. You have to believe that.” I take a deep breath. I know she’s right. As usual. Dammit. “I hate that you’re always right.” She laughs maniacally. “That’s funny, because I love it!” “I know you do. I miss you.” “I miss you too. I’ll try to get a rental car and come see you for a long weekend.” “I would love that. Really.” “Then it’s settled. I’ll talk to you later, Maggs. I’ve got to get to class.” “Okay, bye for now.” I stand in that same spot, digesting everything she’s said. She’s right; I can’t freak out about something I can’t control. I’m safe and happy here, and there’s a very small ray of light at the end of the tunnel. That’s what I need to hold on to. Positive thoughts. Positive feelings… Maybe if I repeat it enough, I can make it true…. I walk to the bathroom sink and splash cool water on my burning face. After toweling my skin dry, I stare at my reflection critically. The girl staring back at me is not one I recognize. For one, her flamboyant red hair speaks of an invitation for attention and judgment—something only a confident girl would have. Her skin is smooth, if a bit splotchy at the moment. No bags under her eyes. No signs of sleeplessness or excessive stress. She is happy and healthy, nothing like the bruised and broken girl who first appeared in this mirror three years ago. I’ve built a life here, one I love. Sure, it’s not the one I’d envisioned as a doe-eyed freshman in college, but whose is? This life may have been born from desperate necessity, but it’s developed into one I’m proud to call mine. I’ve been able to flourish here, maybe even in a way I wouldn’t have been able to before. Lily’s right; I need to embrace this as my path for now and not worry about outside forces. Hell, I’ve even allowed myself to take a gamble on Declan. I have definitely come a long way. Thoughts of Declan start to flood my brain, but I shut them down. I’ve been through the emotional ringer today; I need to focus on something that doesn’t bombard me with a million unanswerable questions. I need a distraction. And I know just who to call. *** I’m sitting in a booth perusing the menu when Allie walks in. I asked her to meet me for lunch and I’m glad she did. I haven’t seen her in a few days, and I can see now she is absolutely glowing! “I guess it went well?” I ask her as she slides into the opposite side. “It did.” I think I can see her back molars her smile is so big.

“That’s great, Allie! I knew he’d be excited about knocking you up. So spill it, sister. How’d you tell him, and what’d he say?” “Well, I just kind of blurted it out. I was so scared I couldn’t think of anything other than getting it off my chest. So I was in the bathroom washing my face that night and he walked in behind me to use the bathroom and was mid piss when I couldn’t contain it any longer. I was so afraid of his reaction.” She breaks down laughing. “And oh, my God, Meg, it was so freaking funny and awkward! I probably should’ve waited, but there he is, face frozen, dick in hand and I thought, ‘Wow, he just got life-changing news and is still hitting the target. He’s never going to live it down if he misses the next time he’s drunk.’ It was such an obscure, ridiculous thing to come to mind, and I just erupted into giggles and couldn’t stop.” I cover my mouth with both hands in an attempt to hide my own. “Holy crap! What did he do? You’re killing me, woman.” “Yeah, no joke! So he finishes his business, right? Zips his fly, flushes the toilet, and just looks at me.” Her expression turns dreamy. “Then… Then the stunned expression just melts off his face and he rushes me and picks me up and spins me around. Laughing like a loon the whole time! It was amazing, Meg.” She sighs happily. “Just amazing.” I knew it. There’s so much love between those two; there’s no way Wiley could’ve been upset by this. I just know they’re going to be amazing parents. “I’m so happy for you guys.” I lean forward and grip her hand, giving it a brief squeeze. “So, have you made a doctor ’s appointment?” We talk about her appointments and vitamins and dietary restrictions for the better portion of our hamburgers before she steers the conversation to a new topic. “So, how’re things going with Declan?” Hmm. How to answer that? “I’m not completely sure.” “Huh? I thought you guys went out and got to know each other….” She wiggles her brows suggestively. I laugh. “You stooge. We did, but he went kind of cold on me after I sucked his dick.” I take a sip of water and try to play it cool. Nope, it didn’t hurt my feelings. All good here…. I jump when her fist lands hard on the table. “That asshole! Don’t tell me he just wanted to get his dick wet?” What the hell? I glare at her. “I hadn’t thought of it like that, but thanks.” “Sorry! Just calling it what it looks like. Maybe it was just a fluke though? I’m sure he’ll be fine when you see him again. Wait, are you seeing him again?” I shrug. “I guess. We had a prescheduled appointment. He hasn’t talked to me to cancel it, so I assume it’s still on.” “Good! I’m sure he’ll be fine,” she says in a firm, resolute tone. “It’s got to be a fluke. You’re a catch, babe. He’ll realize it, you’ll see.” I nod, unconvinced. Hasn’t happened yet.

CHAPTER 15 MEG The next day, I walk through the doors of the gym to find it deserted and Declan running like the cops are chasing him on one of the treadmills. He won his fight the other night; I didn’t get to see what damage had been done since he’d slipped out, but I feel like he should be taking it easy. He hasn’t noticed me yet, with his earbuds in and gaze directed at the opposite wall, and I’m grateful for it. I run my eyes greedily along his form, shiny with sweat. He’s so graceful, each step coordinated with his arms and breath, his muscles contracting and releasing rhythmically beneath his skin. I’ve never been one for art, but if someone put him on a canvas the way he is now, I’d wallpaper my house with it. I break out of my trance when he slams the Stop button on the machine and jumps off, taking long pulls from his water bottle. He lifts his chin at me in a brusque greeting and walks towards a mat. “You ready?” Great. Guess he’s still in his funk. I take a deep breath and roll my neck, trying to ease some of the tension that’s built up over the past couple of days. I doubt any issues will be resolved tonight. I follow Declan with my stuff and put it off to the side. “Yeah, absolutely.” “Good, we can start with some stretches.” He leads me through a series of stretches in complete silence. I can only take the quiet for so long before I break it. “So, where is everyone? I thought you closed later than this?” His gaze meets mine only briefly before responding, voice hard. “We do, but it seems people have better things to do on a Saturday night than work out.” Ouch. My heart squeezes at his tone. Would he rather be somewhere else? I’m so tired of sitting in limbo where Declan is concerned. I can’t see his face to know if that’s a shot at me or a general statement, so I ask. “Is that a comment towards me? I can leave. You’re doing me a favor, and I didn’t mean to put you out. But to be fair, you’re the one who told me to come here tonight. I wasn’t in any great hurry.” Okay, so I’m a little defensive. Shoot me. He stands up straight to look at me. “No. You’re right.” He shakes his head a little and swipes back his hair. “Finish stretching, I’ll be right back.” I watch his back disappear down the hallway. That wasn’t really an answer, but I don’t know how to extract more from him. When he comes back after a few minutes, he has a shirt on. I shake out my arms, ready to get lost in some endorphins. He stops in front of me, his manner business-like and direct. “Ready?” he asks. At my nod, he continues, “All right, so you have a good background in self-defense, and this won’t be too different. Mainly what happens here is that you’ll start out as the attacker and not the attacked, so it’s your job to look for a weakness before instigating anything.” He runs me through a few scenarios, multiple times and in varying orders, to see if I’ll pick up on the opening he’s given me. We’ve been at it for over an hour and he’s lost his shirt again. I’m tired, but still determined. I want to get everything out of this that I can.

“Quit telegraphing your punches, Meg. If you’re going to give your intentions away, at least go for a Superman punch. You can’t let your opponent get the best of you. You can’t depend on someone running in to save you. Real life isn’t like the movies. You’re the only one you can count on, so you can’t give away your intentions.” Declan gestures to his head. “That’s the only upper hand you have.” I nod, breathing hard. I need to approach this without the mental safety net of knowing it’s not real. I need to put myself in that hypothetical, critical situation and try again. When we reset positions, that’s exactly what I do. I start leading with my knee. When I see Declan reacting to it, I quickly pull it back and throw my body into a punch at his unprotected head. Pulling the punch, obviously; I’m not actually trying to hurt the man. “Good! Excellent, Meg. That’s exactly what I want to see. Try again with something else now.” He resets his position and waits to see which way I’ll come at him. Invigorated by his words, I take a moment to analyze his stance then lead with an elbow to his face. Only I’m a little too cocky from my last success and end up putting a touch too much power into it. My whole body loses balance and follows my elbow, which Declan has caught. But he isn’t expecting the force, or my body behind it. He falls to the side, with me landing on top of him. “Ouch,” he wheezes. I lift my head from the mat to apologize. His brows are pinched and his eyes are unfocused, his mouth gaping slightly. His jarred expression is so funny to me and unexpected that I start laughing —full, uncontained laughter that brings tears to my eyes. I can’t even get out what I find so funny when he does nothing but stare at me with the same jolted look. I pound my hand on the mat by his head in a silent cry of uncle. “Your…” More laughter, more tears. “Your face… It was just so funny.” My laughter transforms to a yelp as he rolls us to reverse our positions, putting me on the bottom, sandwiched between him and the mat. “My face is funny? Is that what I heard?” He’s back to teasing me. Cranky Declan has left the building. Finally. If I’d known this was all it would take, I’d have thrown an elbow at his head days ago. A few lingering giggles bubble to the surface as I answer, “Maaaaybe. But don’t worry, it’s not like you can help it. And who knows, you may yet grow into that nose of yours.” His nose is perfect and straight, but it was all I could think of. He just looks at me for a minute, not responding. In the silence, I become very aware of the position we’re in. His forearms are propping him up on either side of my head. My hands are holding onto his sides; I must have grasped on when he rolled us. That’s funny, it felt so natural, and I didn’t even realize it. His eyes are boring into mine and I start stroking my hands up and down the warm skin of his sides. I feel his cock beginning to swell against my leg where he’s straddling me. His eyes drop to my lips and I take it as my signal. I spread my legs to cradle him and move my hands down to his ass to push him harder against me. My giggles are long gone. He lowers his mouth to mine and licks my lips. As if it were a dam breaking, we both start moving in a rush. I shove his shorts and underwear down his legs while he rips away at mine. Then we’re both fighting to get my tank and bra off. I’m think we made a giant tear in my tank top, but I don’t care; all I know is that I need his skin against mine and failure is not an option. Finally free, I wrap my arms around his neck and press his body against mine, crushing my chest deliciously against his. He rocks his cock against me and starts sucking at the skin of my neck, causing goose

bumps to erupt. I drag my fingernails along his back and am rewarded with a groan. He rolls us once again and repositions us so I’m straddling his seated form. I can see so much more from this position and I fucking love it. He brings me in close to suck my nipple into his mouth and I pull at his hair. He answers with a smack to my ass that leaves me breathless. I moan and he does it again to the other cheek. I can’t take the teasing anymore, grabbing the head of his cock nestled between us and giving it a few strokes. “Harder, Meg. God, baby, that feels so good.” I lift myself off his lap enough to position him at my entrance. I slowly lower myself onto him, inch by agonizing inch, until he’s all the way in and I’m sitting directly on his pelvis. Declan falls back from his upright position to lay flat on the mat. He must see me wince, because he gives me a few seconds to adjust to his size. It’s been a long while since I’ve been with anyone which doesn’t make it any easier. “Baby, if your pussy gets any tighter on me, this isn’t going to last long.” A surprised laugh erupts and it helps to relax my muscles so I can start moving on him. I lean forward, bracing my hands on his chest as I begin to ride him—slowly at first, because I love his look of enthralled torment that’s directed at me. It makes me feel powerful and sexy so, like any decent woman, I exploit it. Rise all the way to the tip with just the barest contact and then sliding all the way back down. Repeat. He doesn’t let me get away with it for long. With a growl of frustration, he rolls us again and puts one of my legs over his shoulder. His hands on my hips pull me against him as he thrusts into me repeatedly, positioning his shaft to rub right where I need him most. Declan moves a hand from my hip and caresses my torso, causing shivers of pleasure to roll through my system. His hands and cock are rubbing me so exquisitely that I’m already worked up. With just a few strokes, I’m close. “Your pussy’s perfect. It’s made for my dick. So tight and hot.” Then the fucker slows down to the rhythm I’d tortured him with earlier. Son of a bitch. I dig my nails into his ass trying to force him to go harder and faster. “Not so nice, is it? Too bad I’m enjoying myself. I wonder how long I can keep you on the edge.” “Bastard,” I growl, but he merely laughs at my frustration. He soon gives up his sick joke and starts slamming into me harder and faster, just like I need him to. Reading my needs so completely, he adjusts his angle slightly, driving my back to arch off the mat. I let out a cry, convulsions coming over me so quickly they knock the breath from me. Another stroke and he follows me over the edge before collapsing on top of me, nose buried in my neck. We stay that way for a few moments, catching our breath, and I commit every second to memory. My heart is so full I’m almost afraid the painful thump of my pulse against his is giving me away. I run my hands lightly down his back and he relaxes into me, spreading his weight on me so I can still breathe under him. I want to stay this way forever. I’ve never felt safer or more wanted. This must be what Heaven is like. All too soon he rolls to his back, bringing me with him so his chest is my pillow and our limbs are tangled. Mmmm, not a bad trade-off. I could stand spending the next millennia here too. I snuggle in a little closer so there isn’t even a molecule of air between us. His right arm starts stroking my left, up my forearm and down my hand and over again.

A couple thoughts occur to me. “No one’s going to walk in here, right?” I feel his head shake above mine. “I can lock and unlock the doors from an app on my phone. I did it earlier when I went in the back.” Oh, good. Now for the hard one. “So… we didn’t use a condom.” “No, we didn’t.” He shifts his head to look down at me, intensity in his gaze. “I’m clean though, Meg, I swear. We’re required to get tested before every fight. I wouldn’t do that to you.” I nod, knowing he’s telling me the truth. “I am too. I got a full workup done after my last boyfriend, as well as an IUD.” We lie in silence until I have to ask the question that’s been weighing on my mind since our first kiss. “Why now, Declan?” I know it’s a tough question, but it’s something I’ve been struggling with. “Huh?” he asks, vaguely. “Why now?” I repeat. “We’ve known each other for over a year now. What prompted you to do something about us now?” He shrugs. “I guess you were a little harder to overlook after you’d been thrown in my face a couple times.” He laughs a little at his own joke, but I’m not sure I like that answer. I don’t think now is the time for passive-aggressiveness though, so I just nod against his chest and let it go. “So, what made you ditch the last guy? I don’t think I’ve seen you date anyone,” he probes, changing the subject, still stroking my arm. I sigh. “It’s a pretty long and sordid tale.” “Those are my favorite.” He leans down and kisses my forehead sweetly. I pick through the facts and debate how much I want to tell him. Then I think about what I told Allie, about hiding something from someone important. Granted, he’s not my baby daddy, but we’re at least dating, aren’t we? It’s not something I should hide from him from the outset. I take a deep, steadying breath. “Just remember, you asked for it.” At his nod, I start telling him about Ben. “I started dating this guy about four or five years ago.” Thankfully, those memories are starting to get fuzzy. “He was in a couple of my classes. He was studying pre-med, wanted to be a doctor. He was maybe a year ahead of me. He pursued me heavily from the beginning, and I was flattered. He was clean-cut and handsome, and I was excited that he was drawn in by me. I kept him hanging for a few weeks, wanting to make sure he was serious. One day though, I gave in and went on a date. He came from money when I didn’t, so it was pretty easy to sweep me off my feet, as cliché as it sounds. Nice restaurants, lavish gifts—I was young and stupid and equated money to love. “We moved in together after a few months and things started changing rapidly. He’d always been controlling, wanting to know where I was and what I was doing and with whom, but I thought it was out of concern. I thought it was sweet.” I spit out the last word bitterly and his grip on me tightens, encouraging me. “It was just me and my sister back home, and she tried to tell me what was going on when I couldn’t see it for myself. God, she’s smart.” “You have a sister? I’ve never seen her at the bar, have I?”

“No, she’s still in New Orleans, finishing up her degree. She’s on full scholarship there.” He nods in acceptance and prods, “Keep going.” I take another breath because this is the hard part. “The motivations behind his control became apparent pretty quickly after that. He was obsessed and he wasn’t stable. He never hit me in the beginning, but he would say things to make sure I knew no one would want me but him. No one would put up with me but him. That I was nothing and no one without him.” I shiver in revulsion at the thought now. He had engrained those ideas into my way of thinking, into the way I saw myself. It was hard to see myself as more when I started on my own again. When the first boy who gives you the time of day tells you, for months on end, that you’re worthless, you start to believe it. There was no one before him, so why would there be someone after him? Why would anyone bother? I have to close my eyes to continue, not wanting to see the judgment he’s sure to feel towards me for allowing myself to even be in that situation. “Lillian was the one to save me. She was there for me after a particularly brutal episode.” I owed her everything. She helped me physically and emotionally, where years of therapy never could. She told me she loved me and that she was no different than anyone else, so if she could love me, why couldn’t someone else? I’ve always responded best to logic, and she knew that. Lily gave me the foundation to work with. Don’t get me wrong; I still had to rebuild my self-worth, which I have learned is an unending process. I don’t know that I’ll ever stop hearing judgmental whispers in my mind, but each day and with every decision I make, I get microscopically better at pushing them aside. “Lily came to my rescue. Helped me to the car, packed only my essentials, and moved me out. But remember the part of the story where I said he wasn’t stable?” I ask, looking up at him. He nods, anger radiating from every pore. Declan stopped stroking my arm at some point in my story and now he’s gripping my forearm firmly. I continue, “Well, that day, I lost a psychotic boyfriend and gained a psychotic stalker.” In a deceptively calm manner, he repositions himself to lie on his side, propping his head in a hand to look directly at me, his full lips compressed tightly. He frees his grip from my forearm and starts stroking my side. I desperately appreciate the contact. I need it. I need him. “And clinically, I don’t know that psycho is the right word. What I do know is that I was not safe, and he was not acting in a rational capacity.” “He’s following you now? Here?” he asks, with barely leashed fury. I stare into Declan’s green eyes, overwhelmed with his reaction on my behalf. Telling him was definitely the right thing to do. “This is the part you’ll need to keep to yourself. Wiley is the only other person who knows out here. My name is Margaret Bergeron.” “I thought it was Megan James?” “You were supposed to. His obsession was turning violent and drastic. He started leaving things for me to find that I’d rather not repeat.” I shiver again and he pulls me closer to his warmth. “Lily was the one who came up with the idea of running. So I packed my basics in a book bag and took off through the back door of the library, when I knew he’d be waiting out front, and I didn’t stop until I got here. I thought this might be the perfect city to get lost in. It’s geographically large and densely populated,” I say, reasonably. “I ended up looking for work at The Seventh Circle. Drawn to it because it was operated by a motorcycle club, and I knew that would help me out in two ways.” I tick off one finger. “First, if anyone would let me work for them under the table, who better than the

outliers of both society and law.” I tick off the second finger. “Second, if he sent anyone to look for me and they were able to track me here, no one in their right mind would poke their nose around a motorcycle club. “I told Wiley my situation when I first applied for the job. I didn’t think it would be fair to thrust on him and his club the risk that I was without prior warning. After a two-minute stare down that apparently exposed my soul, he gave me the job and agreed to pay me in cash. He even set me up at the apartment I’m at. I couldn’t have made it this long without him.” I laugh a little. For such a badass, the guy is an absolute sweetheart. Not that I’d tell him that to his face. Ever. I remain silent, waiting anxiously for his reaction. When he finally does speak, he says, “So that’s why you wanted to learn self-defense and how to fight dirty.” I nod unnecessarily at his statement. He considers me silently for a minute longer. “So, were you always called Meg or Margaret?” “I went by Maggie. I thought Meg would be close enough; plus, it’s a common-enough nickname for Margaret. I got to keep a little of myself, you know? My sister calls me Maggs. She never did like to call me what everyone else did. She’d say she wanted to be able to call out to me in a crowd and have me know exactly who it was.” I shrug, “She’s weird.” He brushes loose strands that escaped my ponytail from my face. “You obviously miss her. Do you ever get to see her or talk to her?” “I only see her maybe once a year, and even that’s difficult,” I say sadly. “He isn’t interested in messing with Lily, thank God.” I don’t know why, but I’m grateful. When I first left, I was worried he might do something to her in retribution, but she refused to come with me. She wanted to take advantage of her scholarships and finish school, somehow convinced Ben wasn’t concerned with her. As weeks progressed and her check-ins came regularly with nothing to report, I stopped worrying so much. I was gone maybe three months when it became apparent as to why Ben had left her alone. “He does have someone keeping an eye on her though. Going through her e-mails and tracking her phone records.” “Why didn’t you just go to the police? How did you even know?” he asks with curiosity. I look at him incredulously. “You do know New Orleans is consistently one of the top ten most corrupt cities in America, right?” Declan shakes his head. “Politicians, the sheriff’s office, the whole gamut are hard to trust, especially when Ben’s family is so engrained in the local politics because of their money.” Nope, the local law was not an option. Considering that matter closed, I move on to his other question. “We didn’t know at first, but like I said, Lily’s smart. Every once in a while, there would be an e-mail marked ‘read’ that she hadn’t opened. The person must have forgotten to put it back in the right folder after looking. “She calls me from a prepaid phone and only sparingly. We don’t know how close he’s watching her, so she’s very conscientious when it comes to me.” Lying on my back to gaze unfocused at the ceiling, I add, “You know, I want to kill that guy, for no reason other than he’s made me dread talking to my sister.” I turn my head back to him. “She always keeps me apprised if anything new has happened or if he’s been quiet. And I dread it. I can’t

just look forward to talking to my baby sister like I used to. Now it’s always weighted by an update about him, for better or worse. I want to kill him just for that.” I look Declan in the eye, wanting him to know I’m serious. What I get melts my heart. He cups my jaw with one hand and says, “I’ll show you how.”

CHAPTER 16 MEG True to his word, we spend the next week and a half working on my fighting technique. The night of my tell-all marked a changing point for us that I’m not sure was for the better. He moved up our meeting times to around noon, and I don’t know if it was purposely so we wouldn’t be alone or I’m just overthinking it and it was more convenient; but when combined with the fact that he doesn’t joke around with me anymore, it doesn’t bode well for me. On Thursday afternoon, I’m exhausted. I had an hour of cardio, an hour of class, and an extra hour of training with Declan. I’m drained physically from the workouts and emotionally from him. He’s constantly irritated, solemn, or both, and it’s getting annoying. “Come on, Meg, focus,” he reprimands my latest attempt. I grumble under my breath, “I’ll focus my knee on your balls.” Okay, I might be sexually frustrated too, but the bastard’s got his shirt off. I mop my sweaty brow with the hem of my tank. Yes, again. Don’t judge me; it worked the first time. He may as well be made from stone though, because he just stands there with his legs shoulder-width apart and arms crossed. Is that a pissed-off look on his face? Oh, hell no! He’s the one with the attitude, not me! That’s it. Time to quit while I’m ahead… or at least far enough ahead to control my instinct to beat him upside the head. I look at the clock on the wall. “I’ve got to get going. I need to be at work in an hour or so.” It’s as good an excuse as any. He nods once and drops his arms to his side. “All right. Same time tomorrow.” I return his nod, scoop up my shit, and get out of there. *** The next day, I’m stretching on one of the mats waiting for Declan when he suddenly appears behind me. “When you’re done, meet me outside with your bag.” He isn’t quite as abrupt as yesterday. He’s back to being just solemn, and I’m not sure if that’s an improvement or not. I finish loosening up from my earlier run and grab my stuff to follow him outside. He leads me over to my car—my twelve-year-old grey Corolla with the rusting roof that I have affectionately named Bob. I stop beside him, cross my arms, and turn my head to look up at him impatiently, aggravated by his mere presence at this point. Completely unaffected, he returns the look from his height. “You’re going to learn to change a tire.” My arms drop limply at my sides. That. Asshole. I was just working into a good snit and he has to go and be thoughtful again. Now I have to be nice. Dammit. This is bullshit! “Pop your trunk. Let’s see what we’re working with.”

I dig through my bag for my keys to do as he says. When I’ve got it open, he surveys the contents of my trunk and looks satisfied. “Good. You’ve got everything you need, so you just need the practical.” He proceeds to pull out the tire iron and jack and inspects my spare. “Your spare needs some air, but we’ll just practice taking your own tire on and off.” Closing the trunk, he hands me the tire iron. “You’re going to want to loosen the nuts before you get if off the ground. The weight of the car will give you better resistance and make it easier. If you wait until after you lift it, you’ll cause the whole tire to turn with the stud. Counterproductive.” He continues to explain basic principles—something about stripping the nuts. I’m not sure. I only half hear, too lost in my own thoughts. He’s helping me to take care of myself. He has faith in my ability to take care of myself. Even Lily questions my ability. Declan’s complete faith in me lets me feel normal for the first time in quite a while. When he starts talking about placement of the jack, I snap out of it and start paying attention again. This part is always the trickiest, isn’t it? I’m afraid I’ll do something like in the episode of I Love Lucy when Lucy and Ethel hitch a ride to Florida. When they’re delayed by a flat tire and have to change it, they put the jack in the wrong place and end ups sending the fuel pump through the hood of the car. Yeah, no thanks. Forty minutes later, I’ve successfully taken off my tire and put it back on. There was no small amount of struggling either. I never realized tires were so heavy! I return the tools to their storage in my trunk and step back to survey my work. Stupidly, knowing what I just accomplished, my eyes start to tear up and I strive to blink them back before he notices them. I fail and decide to go out in a blaze of glory. I wrap my arms tight around his waist and bury my head in his chest, letting my tears soak his shirt. He stands stiff and frozen in my embrace for a few minutes before he relaxes enough to rub his hand up and down my back. He’s trying to soothe me, and it only makes me cry harder. When my sobs subside, I feel his chest begin to shake. I look up at him to see why he’s having a seizure, but he’s not—he’s laughing. When he looks down to meet my gaze and I hiccup, he can’t hold it in anymore; his laughter floods out loud and steady, his arms wrapping tightly around me. My heart thumps painfully, partly because he’s holding me so tightly and partly because of his laugh. That sound is better than any music to me, causing all my nerve endings to tingle in pleasure. Soon, it’s contagious and I start laughing too. I have no idea what’s so funny, but I can’t not laugh…. When the giggles finally evaporate, I look up into his face to see the happiness shining through his eyes. I’m not disappointed. He leaves one arm anchored around my waist and sweeps the other up to tangle in my hair. I don’t know who or if both of us moved at the same time, but the next instant his lips are crushed against mine, my body tight enough against his to form a seal. I anchor my hands at his back as his mouth feasts hungrily on mine. I can feel the beat of his heart, growingly increasingly rabid. I feel my back press into something hard—my car, maybe? I don’t even remember moving backwards. He breaks away from me and continues to move down my jaw until he’s placing an openmouthed kiss against the pulse straining at my neck. It doesn’t really help me to catch my breath, but I appreciate the effort. When he finally pulls back enough to look into my eyes, I can feel the rumble in my heart, like a volcano as it prepares to and finally explodes. His eyes read of contented happiness. For. Me. I

made him feel that way. He makes me feel like I’m the grand prize. Unable to stop myself, I blurt, “I love you.” His eyes flare wide with shock, and in that minute lapse of time I still don’t regret it. No, as far as I’m concerned surprise is not an indicator of rejection. Then he pulls away from me. That’s still not rejection. He doesn’t just stop at a foot of space between us though. He doesn’t stop until there’s easily three feet, maybe more, between us. Shoving his hands into his hair, he stares at the ground, the muscle in his jaw ticking. He looks stressed out, like he just got the news the stock market crashed. No, it’s not best-case scenario, but maybe he needs space to absorb and accept? It’s too hard of a sell and my heart absorbs the impact. I hear the tiny telltale crack coming from somewhere in my chest as I calmly try to breathe through it. He could just be letting it sink in, right? That’s still not rejection. “You can’t love me,” he states after a few minutes. I stay silent, so he continues. “You’re just confused by orgasms.” I merely tilt my head in response. Is he trying to convince me or himself? “I probably didn’t help. You latched onto me because I did something nice for you.” I can’t let that pass without comment, so I finally speak through the lump welling in my throat. I need to disillusion him of my imagined pathetic-ness before he runs with it. “You’re not the first person to be nice to me, Declan. I would have fallen for Wiley long before you if that was all it took to buy my love. You want to make excuses, fine, but try harder.” He shakes his head roughly, pacing now. “What do you want me to say?” I don’t know, but that wasn’t it. I shake my head, at a complete loss. “I didn’t make you any promises for anything other than a good fuck and maybe a laugh. I thought we were just having fun, Meg. Just spending some time together?” “We were, and I did have fun. Then I started to feel more,” I whisper softly. It’s all I can manage. He drops his hands from his hair and points his index finger at me angrily. “This is not my fault. I did not fucking lead you on.” Now that… that was rejection. I stupidly thought he was legitimately interested in me. All those times he’d come to the bar alone, seemingly just to talk to me. Or all the time he volunteered to spend with me, teaching me. Not to mention how he listened and responded to my drama-laden life. Like he actually cared? I thought they were signs. The beginnings of something great. I don’t even know where I went wrong. Could it really have been only about getting his dick wet? Or having a laugh? My heart shatters at my feet. No, at his feet. I gave it to him for safekeeping, after all. But he sees my gift like it’s a paper bag filled with dog crap and set on fire, so of course he felt the need to stomp it out. I take one more long look at his face. I study his expression, still a cross between horror and anger, and I commit it to memory. You’re worth more than this, Meg. Remember this. And never let it happen again.

I feel the subsequent ice water flood through my veins, followed magnificently by numbness. I can’t live with the pain, but the cold makes it bearable, taking some of the sting away. I step forward calmly so he can hear; the effort it would take to speak at normal volume would detract too much from the energy I’m funneling into not falling apart. I ignore his suspicious expression and say softly, “Thank you for all you’ve taught me.” With that, I get in my car and drive away, with no intention of returning.

CHAPTER 17 MEG I call into work the next day, since I don’t have the energy to put on a happy face. I haven’t cried yet; there’s no use. I knew this could be an outcome, and I took a risk on Declan anyway. He had only ever experienced lust, when I had experienced something so much more. I won’t be doing that again. Yes, I’ve survived, but I feel brittle enough to crack. Something to look forward to. I’m sitting on the couch with Gerard Butler in Olympus Has Fallen, because a little death and destruction seemed appropriate. It’s not really holding my attention though. My mind still keeps wandering back to the debacle that is my love life. Could I have done it differently? Should I not have said anything at all? But then again, could I live with myself if I had kept quiet about how I felt? I thought we were going somewhere, headed towards something that would change my life for the better, in a big way. Frustrated with my thoughts, I grip my temples, trying to quiet the doubts plaguing me. There’s no use. You know better than anyone that you can’t change the past; all you can do is accept, endure, and move on. Shaking away my self-interrogation, I get up to refill my wine glass. Nothing like a crisp, cold chardonnay to drown out my inner monologue. As I’m sitting back down, my phone lights up with a call. “Hey, Lillian.” “Hiya, toots!” At least one of us is in a good mood. “What are you up to this fine evening?” I don’t really know where to start. “Drinking wine. Watching Gerard Butler.” “Sounds perfect! Although, might I suggest some Jason Statham next? Up for some company?” This is followed by a knock on the door. Naturally, my suspicion immediately takes hold. “Lily….” “Go ahead, answer the door. I’ll wait.” I walk to the door and look through the peephole. Sure enough, I throw the door open to my blonde-haired carbon copy and she throws herself into me for a hug. I squeeze her tight, probably cutting off oxygen, but whatever. “Lily! I’m so glad you’re here. I missed you so much!” I haven’t seen her in at least a year, and yeah, we talk on the phone, but it’s not nearly as good as having her close to me again. “Babe. Need. Air.” A smile—not of the brittle variety—breaks out across my face. “Oh, you’ll be fine. You’re already a little brain damaged, so this can’t hurt you that much more.” We’re both laughing as we break apart. “How are you here? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” She moves her stuff from outside the front door so I can close and lock it. We sit down on the couch and get comfortable. “The usual method, you know, just in case.” She’s talking about how she ‘snuck’ out here. She’s only done this a couple times before, but she got the idea when her car had to go into the shop for maintenance a year or so after I had left. She had to get a rental car to use in the meantime, and she realized while filling out the paperwork that she could say on record that it was for local use only, but she could still use it out of state. Since that point, she uses the opportunity to see me. Ben, if he were watching, would see her car in the shop and her rental car would be out of state and then back again before he knew what car he was looking for. Quite brilliant, in my opinion. “I wanted to surprise you. The last time we talked, it seemed like you could use some cheering up.”

I drop my head back against the back of the couch and close my eyes. “You have no idea.” I feel her hand rest on my shoulder. “Come on. Catch me up.” I bring my hands up to scrub my face, trying to relieve some of the tension. I spend the next thirty minutes telling what’s happened since we last spoke, not skimping on any of my uncertainties. She’s always given it to me straight. She’ll tell me what she can glean from this scenario, what his running and placing blame means. Blame. Every time I think of what he said, I can feel my blood start to boil. Like falling in love is failing to have fulfilled a responsibility and you have to assign fault. A responsibility to what? To remain unloved? To not love? Who thinks like that? When I finish my story, I gulp down my wine, because I really freaking need it. I get up to refill my glass and get one for her. I also need a few seconds to take some deep breaths. I’m angry now, and I need to calm down. The anger won’t do my piece of mind any good. Deep breath in, hold, deep breath out. I do this a couple of times until I can feel some of my muscles start to relax—not completely, but it’s a start. I walk back to the living room, place the wine on the coffee table in front of us, and wait for Lillian’s take on this turn of events. I sip on my wine as I wait. She’s staring, seemingly unseeing, at the wall across the room. Not at a picture or anything, just the drywall. I focus my eyes on it for a minute just in case it’s giving her some insight that I’ve missed by not staring at it in the past. I rotate my head this way and that, trying to garner wisdom, only succeeding in cramping my neck. Nope, Lillian must be a drywall whisperer. I go back to waiting patiently and silently for her to finish interpreting. “He’s scared,” she finally says, refocusing on me. “He’s scared of a relationship, of feeling something beyond the surface.” I’m lost. “I don’t get it. Why would he be scared?” She shrugs. “I can’t answer that. I can only tell you what impression I get from his reaction. He’s assigning blame, like there will be consequences.” Blame. There’s that word again. Deep breath in, hold, breathe out. “All I can say is this is not your hang up. You need to go on with your life knowing you did what you could and were true to yourself and what you felt. You can’t feel guilty for that.” Well. She may be right. I followed my heart, much to my detriment, but it still doesn’t make it any easier. “So, what do I do now? What can I do now?” “Hello, McFly! Stop trying to put this on your shoulders. He’s got to come to you. You keep going on with life. He’s the one who has to decide what to do, not you.” “But what if he decides to do nothing?” It hurts to say. What if he decides I’m not worth it? I don’t say those words, but they’re there, nonetheless. She shakes her head slowly, “Then that’s a decision that he’s going to have to live with, not you. You go on with a clear conscience and he misses out on the chance of a lifetime.” I smile sadly. Maybe. But it really doesn’t help. *** I told Wiley that Lily was in town, and he covered my shifts for the next two days until she

had to go back to school. It was great having her here. We went out and tried new restaurants and got lost in the Galleria. We stayed in and watched chick flicks and drank too much wine. It was the perfect way to relax and spend time with her again. We didn’t talk anymore about Declan; it felt too much like beating a dead horse. When she was packing up her car to head out again, I got choked up. It may be another year before I see her again. That’s way too freaking long. “Love you, Maggs,” she says, giving me a hug. “Love you too, Lily,” I respond, holding her tight. She pulls away first. “Don’t forget what I said. I’m wise and shit.” I laugh through the sadness. “Yeah, yeah. Drive safe.”

CHAPTER 18 MEG I do take Lily’s words to heart though; this is not a problem with me, so it’s nothing I can fix. I’m at work a few weeks later when I see Declan for the first time since the incident. That’s what I’ve been calling it—‘the incident.’ I haven’t gone back to the gym, content to let it be his fault if I get fat. I just haven’t had it in me to face him again after that. Maybe I’ll never get over it, or maybe I just need a little more time, but whatever the case, I know I can’t do it now. He sits down the bar from me while I’m busy serving other customers. I only know he’s there because I can feel his stare. Before I can make my way down there though, Wiley spots him and takes a seat next to him. I couldn’t be more grateful; I was not looking forward to the one-on-one post mortem. When I finally make my way towards them, I paste a placid, ‘nope, no hurt feelings here’ smile on my face and issue a standard greeting. “Hey, guys, what’ll it be?” I’m politely ignoring Declan’s brooding stare that doesn’t seem to want to leave me and looking only at Wiley. Safe, comforting, honorary brother Wiley. His face already has a wide smile on it as he turns to me. He’s been doing that a lot lately, smiling. Ever since he found out his new status as fatherto-be, he looks like the Earth is his personal Heaven. I’m so happy for him. My smile morphs into something more genuine. “Hey, sweetheart. Couple of beers here.” “You got it,” and I set about filling their order, wondering why Declan is here now. Is it to pretend nothing happened? Just carry on like we used to and be friends? I don’t know that I can do that. I’ve reconciled over not having him in my life in a significant capacity, but to have him in a shallow one? A surface-deep mockery of friendship? Not a chance. When I place the glasses in front of them and go to walk away, Wiley lightly grasps my wrist. “Hey? Did you hear me?” I look up from his hand to his face. He looks confused and concerned. “Huh?” Inner monologues, man. These things are rendering me so oblivious I’m going to walk into a door. Again. “I asked if you’re okay. You’ve seemed a little out of it lately.” My eyes quickly spring to Declan and back, gauging to see if I can play this off as being sick or not. His piercing gaze says he can see right through me. Damn. I clear my throat, trying to buy some time to come up with something remotely plausible. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired, haven’t been sleeping well. I think I need a new mattress. It’s getting a little lumpy these days. Wakes me up every time I turn over,” I babble, barely restraining from smacking myself on my forehead. Clearly, I needed more time if a lumpy mattress was the best I could come up with. Wiley buys it though, sweet, caring man that he is. “Well, when you find a new one, let me know and we can get it to your apartment for you.” Oh, man. The guilt is going to drown me. “Right, Declan? Maybe we can put some of your pretty muscles to use, show they’re not just for picking up chicks.” He laughs at his own gag. Declan just grunts and I feel the ice enter my heart again. I hadn’t even thought about that. Has he been with other girls since me? Who am I kidding? I’m sure he has. I obviously held no claim over him. I scoff at myself. Stupid Meg. “Hey, where’s your logo shirt?” Wiley asks curiously.

I look down, trying to refocus on what he’s saying. Oh, right, I have a plain black tank top on instead of The Seventh Circle logo shirt that is my uniform. “I don’t know. It’s the strangest thing, I went to look for one this afternoon and couldn’t find one. As in any of them. Dirty or clean. I’ve been trying to rack my brain as to what I did with them.” I shrug. “I seem to be doing that a lot lately. Misplacing things. I don’t know where I put my keys when I got home yesterday, so I had to take a cab here today. Luckily, Caitlyn was able to drop off her key to my place earlier when I realized they were gone. I think I’m going senile.” I give a half smile. Seriously, that’s my best guess. That or I’ve been too distracted moping. “Is there anything else that’s gone missing?” Declan finally breaks his silence. My eyes meet his, but I can’t hold his gaze. I direct my answer to the dartboard on the far wall behind him. “Yes and no. I keep leaving things in places I don’t normally, like my corkscrew was in the wrong drawer the other day and I found my robe in the closet instead of the bathroom.” It really is the strangest thing. “You’re sure no one’s breaking in and taking your things?” I laugh. “Nothing stays gone long. You think someone is rearranging my stuff?” Wiley catches on to Declan’s vein of questioning whether he realizes the extent of Declan’s knowledge or not. He gives me a meaningful look. “It’s not so impossible. Some people are real creepers, Meg.” His gaze is pointed. I sober up and look at the two men in front of me, both thinking identical thoughts behind dark expressions. I would say it’s Ben, but honestly I’ve done stuff like this before, and I tell them that. “I don’t think there’s anything sinister in this. This is not the first time I’ve done something like this. My short-term memory isn’t that great. I probably left the shirts at the laundromat. And my keys, I let myself into the apartment with them and then they went missing. It’s much more likely I got distracted and didn’t follow my routine of dropping them inside the door. Relax, ya’ll, they’ll turn up.” This is, of course, directed to Wiley. “Let me drive you home.” My head spins to Declan as Wiley slaps his hand on the table. “Perfect. You can take her now.” My head spins back to Wiley. Shit, I’m going to get whiplash at this rate. “I can’t leave now, Wiley! It’s only eleven.” His hand reaches forward to rest on mine. “You haven’t been sleeping. That’s your own words, Meg.” He points a finger at me with his free hand, halting my argument. Crap. More guilt. “It’s not busy tonight. Melanie can handle it from here. Go home.” He gives my hand a squeeze then stands from the stool. “Make sure she gets home safe,” he directs to Declan, who nods in return before Wiley walks off. Great. Just fucking great. I look to Declan and he raises his eyebrows at me. “Ready?” I huff, annoyed at him, Wiley, and the whole situation really, but mostly I’m annoyed at myself. I’m the one who got me into this—or, more specifically, my mouth did. Stupid mouth. “Yeah, give me a minute.” I grab my purse from behind the bar and let Melanie know I’m headed out. She’s a good sport and just tells me to have a good night. God bless understanding coworkers.

When I climb into Declan’s truck, I’m assaulted by good memories. Memories that make me want to get this over with as soon as possible. I lean my head back and close my eyes, hopefully discouraging any conversation from him. I have a feeling he came into the bar alone for a reason, and I’m not sure I want to know what that is. “I was hoping we would get the chance to talk.” Dammit. Maybe I should have tried to write ‘Do Not Disturb’ on my forehead instead. I look out the window and briefly consider jumping from the moving car. But that would put me in the middle of a highway in the dark when I’m wearing all black. Rather than succumbing to being roadkill, I heave a sigh and accept my tortuous fate for the next fifteen minutes. “Oh, yeah? And what about exactly?” I ask, deciding to play defense on this. He comes to a stop at the red light and turns to look at me. I can’t decipher what he’s trying to tell me with the look, so I just cross my arms across my chest and wait. He turns forward again and rubs the scruff of his beard with one hand. I continue to wait patiently. Sort of. My foot starts tapping silently against the floor mat, but he can’t see. “About the last time we hung out.” My foot stops tapping and my muscles seize. “What about it?” I grit out from my locked jaw. “I just… I just wanted to know if we could be friends again. We both spend too much time at Seventh Circle and I wanted to clear the air of… awkwardness.” Called it. The hollowness in my chest fills with a slow, simmering rage. How dare he. He wants to ‘clear the air’ so he doesn’t have to feel awkward at his favorite hangout? Fuck that! That asshole can continue to feel awkward, or better yet, avoid me and my place of employment altogether. I don’t give a flying monkey shit if my feelings for him make him uncomfortable. A sudden thought grips me. “Is this because you haven’t been able to pick anyone up? Am I holding you back on your player status?” I start laughing, because what else am I supposed to do? He pulls to the side of the road and kills the engine, gripping my forearm as he looks at me intently. “Meg, shut the fuck up. That’s not it.” I yank my arm from his grip. I can’t be touched by him right now; I just know I would crack more than I have already if I were to allow him contact. “You’re funny, and a great time to be around. I don’t want to lose that because you’re—” “Because what? Because I’m in love with you? Because I want more from you than a good fuck or a fun hour?” He throws his head back against the headrest and grips his hair in his fingers. “Will you just fucking stop?” “Stop what? I need some specifics here.” I’m unhinged, I know it, but I can’t stop now. He’s the one who forced this situation. I was content to avoid him until I fucking died, so now he pays the price of all the rage, confusion, and hurt I feel right now. I stare at him directly, no longer afraid to meet his gaze, my fury giving me courage. He turns to me again, his own temper flaring, hands slicing through the air in emphasis. “Stop fucking doing this! We were having fun—a great fucking time, actually. I thought you knew what it was. I thought you knew it wasn’t going to end in a proposal.”

“Oh, get off your high horse, Declan! I wasn’t expecting marriage. I just wasn’t expecting the fucking anger that I got. I didn’t realize how someone loving you could inspire that bullshit reaction.” “Of course you don’t. Don’t you understand I didn’t fucking want it?” I nod sadly, my anger fleeing as fast as it came on. I face away from him, out the front windshield, and watch the light cycle at the intersection while sharp pains stab at my heart. “Yeah, Declan. I got that. Loud and clear.” His anger tempers itself at my mood change. He’s so responsive to my needs and feelings; I don’t get why this is so hard for him. I feel a tear trek down my cheek but ignore it. If only he would open himself up to the idea of us, of love. We could be so happy together… but that’s a pipe dream, and I need to stop posing ‘if only’ questions. They won’t get me anywhere. He leans forward and grips my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him. He uses his thumb to wipe away my stray tear. “Why can’t we just go back, Meg? To what it was before that day? It was fucking fantastic.” I almost pity him. Almost. “Declan, don’t you get it? I’ve felt that way for a long time before I told you. I was just hoping that, by the time I told you, you would feel that way for me too.” I shrug and bring my hands to grips his wrists, holding on to him for what I know will be the last time. “I can’t go back to when I had to hide what I felt from you. That’s not fair to me, and it’s not fair to you.” I lean forward and kiss him, melting into him and his quick response, reveling in the feeling of perfection. When I lean back, I pull his hands from my face. “We don’t move forward from this, Declan. There is no us going forward, friends or otherwise. We move on as strangers to one another.” I stare into his eyes, making sure he absorbs what I’m saying, because I won’t let myself be put in this position again. I shouldn’t have to defend my feelings, and I damn sure shouldn’t be asked to pretend they don’t exist. “I have to protect myself, and this is just the way it has to be.” He’s still staring at me when I finally resituate myself in the seat and face forward once again. “Please take me home, Declan. I’m tired.” I’m exhausted. I’ve had my heart sent through a meat grinder, and I just want to crawl into bed and forget the last few months. Maybe one day, I’ll be grateful I took this chance on love, but I just don’t see it happening anytime soon. I hold myself together until he pulls up outside my apartment. He walks me to my door and I can’t even look at him as I close my door quietly, locking it audibly. Only then, when I sink down the door after I hear his footsteps disappear, do I let my tears loose. For the next hour, I let the dam I’ve built up on sheer self-preservation crumble. I let my pain out with every gut-wrenching sob, hoping that finally releasing the hold on my control will be the cathartic cleansing I so desperately need in order to heal.

CHAPTER 19 MEG It’s been a couple weeks since the encounter with Declan and I’ve gone numb. Ever since that night, I just can’t seem to shake the deadened feeling that permeates my being. I can’t even muster up a polite smile for work. Last night, Dennis patted my hand in understanding. “It’ll be all right, sugar. He’ll come around.” I just walked away. I didn’t even have the energy to ask how he knew a man was responsible for doing this to me. Didn’t care enough, frankly. I haven’t even spoken to my best friend about it. I’m sure Wiley told Allie that Declan brought me home, so she knows something happened. Luckily, she knows me well enough to realize I need this funk for right now. Thankfully, I found my keys—in the silverware drawer, of all places—so I didn’t need any more unwanted rides. Tonight when I got home, I walked straight to the shower and waited for it to warm up on the hottest setting, my lower back killing me. I had to use a pair of my old boots since I couldn’t find my current ones with the cushy sole inserts. I just stand there, waiting for the hot water to bring feeling back to my body. I finally cut the water when it starts to cool off, grabbing the towel and wrapping it around myself. When I open the door to the hallway, I freeze and my skin prickles so bad it starts to itch. There’s low music coming from the living room. Now I know I’ve been forgetful lately, but I am damn sure I did not stop to even turn on a light switch on my way to the bathroom from the front door tonight. The longstanding numbness drains from my body, replaced by alertness; every beat of my heart sounds loud and clear to my ears in the muted room. My heart skips a beat. There’s something not right here. I feel it in my marrow. My gaze snaps to the corner of my bedroom where my peripheral caught movement among the shadows. The voice I hear next has me sick to my stomach. “Maggie. I’m so glad you’re home.”

CHAPTER 20 MEG No, no, no, no, no, please, no. Don’t let it be him. It’s obvious my prayers go unanswered when Ben steps forward into the light cast from the living room. “B-B-Ben.” I take a steadying breath. Panic won’t get me anywhere with him. He has no heart and won’t be moved by fear—if anything, it’ll feed him. I clear my throat and steel myself. “Ben,” I say, more clearly this time. “What are you doing here?” He cocks an eyebrow at me and looks downright amused. “Funny you should say that because I was going to ask you the same thing.” He takes a step forward, and I take an equal one back without even meaning to. He grins evilly. He knows he’s got me. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do in this situation. I know the textbooks say I should play into his delusion and pretend I’m happy he’s here, that he’s less likely to hurt me if he thinks his feelings are returned. On the other hand, I don’t know that he’s suffering from a delusion. I don’t have a degree in psychology or anything, but you used to be able to see it on his face. Ben used to derive real pleasure from his emotional torture. Even now, my fear is so thick he can probably smell the adrenaline rushing through my system, and he’s pleased by it. The smile on his face would give the joker a run for his money. He’s a sociopath with a fixation. I debate for a second longer before I decide to go with option one, if for no other reason than he won’t expect it. I can catch him off guard the same way he did me. Taking another deep breath, I wrap my towel tighter and start on my plan of attack. “I was hoping you would turn up sooner rather than later, Ben. I’ve missed you.” My lips curve into a small smile. His brows scrunch very slightly, but I see it. I chose correctly. “Is that right? Is that why you moved to a different state? Because you missed me? Is that why you were fucking that jarhead? Because you missed me? Is that why you changed your name? Because you missed me?” His voice rises with every question. How does he…? A realization strikes hard and fast. I am. Such. An. Idiot. “It’s been you moving my things, hasn’t it?” Such a freaking idiot. Declan and Wiley tried to tell me, and still I brushed it off. Why did I not take it seriously? His evil smile turns genuine and it really is a shame he’s bat shit crazy because he is a handsome guy. What a waste. “Of course it was. It was fun at first, watching you explain it away to yourself, watching it drive you just a little bit crazy.” He shakes his head. “But then it just got to be pathetic. Come on, Meg. I thought you were smarter than that.” Me too. Dammit. I try to calm my racing heart, knowing I need to regain control of this situation. He is obviously well versed in my new life, but I just don’t know how he found me. “What are you doing here now, Ben?” He gestures through the bedroom door into the living area. “I made you dinner, Maggie. I thought we could catch up.” He looks so genuine I almost want to look around and see where evil Ben went. “Come on, Maggie. The steak will get cold.” He gestures to the doorway and into the light of the living room, waiting for me to walk through first.

I hesitate a second, drawing courage from all the classes I’ve taken through the years, especially Declan’s more recent ones. I know what to do the minute he gets close enough; I just need to relax and let muscle memory take over. I only need to fight back long enough for— For what? I almost lose my cool again. What’s going to happen if I can’t render him unconscious? I live alone. I’ve shut everyone out the past two weeks, and they’re giving me the space I so desperately needed so I could wallow. I almost laugh out loud. My feelings for one man got me into this situation, and my feelings for another are going to get me killed. I shake off my thoughts as quickly as they come. The time for self-pity is over, Meg. I am not a damsel in distress, and there is no white knight waiting to rescue me. I’m all I’ve got, and that’s going to have to be enough. I walk forward towards the four-seater table, careful to keep Ben in my sight. I don’t trust him. I’ve insulted his pride by running away and I’ve kept myself, the object of his obsession, at an unattainable distance. I’m not willing to take on faith that he won’t make me pay for it with my physical well-being. “How did you find me, Ben?” He steps close in front of me and pushes my wet hair off my face almost tenderly. “Well, you didn’t make it easy, what with changing your hair and your name.” He tugs at a strand more harshly, clenching his jaw. “I certainly didn’t expect you to be acting like a whore when I found you, crying over some other man who wasn’t me, Maggie.” I can feel the rage seething from him, but I take my chances and press him anyway. I have to know. “How did you find me, Ben?” He dips his head close to mine and I will my heart to slow its pace, sure Ben can hear every rushed beat. “I followed your sister.” He smiles again, switching back to genuine. “Tell me, Maggie. How stupid do you think I am that I wouldn’t figure out her scheme? Tsk, tsk. You really should have more respect for my abilities. They record the mileage from the car once it’s returned, Maggie. Once I knew how and when, I just had to wait for her to do it again and follow her.” “She said you were dating someone new, Ben. Someone else.” He chuckles and steps back. “Ah, yes. Yes, I am. And what a happy coincidence she found out. Now I don’t have to go into a lengthy explanation as to why.” I try to pull back from his hold, but he won’t let me. My heart dips into my stomach. “Why what, Ben?” “Why you have to go, of course,” he whispers into my ear. “You see, my new girl would get awfully jealous if she knew she wasn’t the only one in my affections, and while I tried to forget you, it just doesn’t seem to work that way.” He pulls back slightly and says, almost conversationally, “I think I might have to kill you, Maggie. I’ve done a lot of soul searching, and I think it’s the cleanest way to cut you from my life.” I try to swallow past my suddenly dry throat. “And what about when you get put away for murder, Ben? What will your new girl do then?” “And who’s going to know, Maggie? How am I supposed to know you’re here, when you’ve left very little trail and even changed your name? By all accounts, I’m still sitting a state away, waiting for you to come home to me. Besides,” he continues with a reprimanding tone, “this really isn’t the

best neighborhood for a young, single female. You should have thought twice before renting here.” Oh, shit. He’s serious. We’re both caught off guard when my phone starts to ring. My pulse pounds. Whoever that is, please let them be on their way here. I use the brief distraction to my benefit and quickly aim my knee into Ben’s crotch. He catches it coming a half second before it’s too late, rotating his body to catch my knee with his thigh. I don’t waste time though, and try to get an uppercut into his chin, but it barely clips him. Goddammit! He growls in frustration. “Now, Maggie,” he admonishes when I immediately follow it with a clean punch that lands on his cheek. Before I can pull it back, he has my forearm in a death grip. When I bring my other arm up to get in another punch, he blocks it and grabs that forearm as well. He pushes me back and I land on the set table, pinned by my forearms. I struggle against him, refusing to go out this way. “It really could be much easier if you just accepted your fate.” I hear Declan’s voice in my head telling me that no fight is over until I say it is. I determine whether it’s worth the sacrifice of tapping out or not. He spurs me on, with a second wind. It’s not over until I say it is. I spit in his eye. “Yeah, right, motherfucker. You are not going to be the one to determine my fate.” I’ve had years of hiding in the shadows from him, my anger and fear building up, almost needing this fight to expunge him from my system. I take advantage of the position and go to jab my knee into his crotch again—this time, it lands. His grip on my forearms loosens enough that I can pull from his hold and I start raining hammer fists down on his head, hoping to knock him out. He lets out an unnatural growl and catches one arm above my head, using the other to put my neck in a choke hold. “I am the only one who can do it. You’re mine!” he roars. One of my arms is still attempting to fight him off, but it’s not enough. My lips start to tingle and I’m getting dizzy. Dimly, I hear my phone ring again. At least I’ll go out listening to Ozzy Osbourne. I stop trying to hit him and instead try to dislodge his grip from my neck, digging my nails into his fingers until I feel the sticky warmth of blood. When I reposition my hand to pull from another angle, I feel the silverware he set out earlier. A knife. I don’t even think twice; I don’t have the time, my vision starting to develop black spots. I move as quickly as my oxygen-deprived body can and plunge the knife into his stomach before he can move to block it. He staggers back, releasing me completely from his grip. I quickly rise from the table, not wanting to remain in such a prone position even if he is bleeding out. I carefully bring in a lungful of air through my tender air passage, willing my mind to stay conscious as the oxygenated blood rushes back through my head. “You whore! What have you done?” he gasps. And that’s it. He sends me over the edge with those words. I snarl in warning, because it’s the only noise I can get out. I walk up to him and send my foot so hard into his balls I’m sure they’re no longer descended. It’s time for him to go down. I’m done with this. He collapses onto his knees and howls in pain. I’m not sure if it’s from the kick or the knife, and I don’t fucking care. I get closer and give him two solid punches against his temples… Okay, maybe there was a third, but he deserved it. I step back and watch calmly as he falls back, unconscious. I walk over to my phone, ignoring my missed calls and messages, and dial 911. I can’t speak, so I wait a few seconds after they answer and hang up, knowing someone will come regardless. Picking up my towel that was dislodged at some point during the struggle, I wrap it around

myself again and I calmly watch Ben bleed out on my floor. When I open the door exactly eight minutes later to the police, I faint dead away.

CHAPTER 21 MEG I’m dreaming of dancing pumpkins when I’m awoken by distant voices. I want to tell the voices to go away, that they’re disrupting my fun, but I can’t. I try to make my throat work, but it refuses. Falling back on plan B, I try to open my eyes, but they won’t listen either. The voices get louder, closer. “Haven’t you done enough already?” “No. I haven’t done nearly enough yet. I won’t leave here until she tells me to.” I struggle to figure out what’s going on when I fall unconscious again. *** A beeping noise wakes me up, persistent and high-pitched and annoying. I open my eyes and try to figure out what that freaking noise is when I’m assaulted by strange surroundings. I attempt to turn my head to investigate further, but it hurts too badly. A strangled whine is the only sound that manifests from my surprised yell of pain. The beeping noise gets louder and faster, and I just want it to stop. A young woman in blue scrubs walks into my peripheral. “Hello there, sunshine. Glad to see you’re finally awake.” My brows furrow. At my confusion, she continues in a low voice, “You’re at Memorial Hospital. An ambulance brought you in here a couple days ago, do you remember?” Oh. No. I don’t remember the ambulance, but I do remember what preceded it. She smiles sadly in understanding at my tortured expression, nodding. “Your neck is going to be sore for a few weeks, no doubt, but there doesn’t seem to have been any permanent damage. I’ll give you a whiteboard to use while you’re here.” Reading the question in my eyes, she answers, “Now that you’re awake, you’ll only be here another day for observation, and then you’ll be free to go.” I don’t bother nodding. I wish I had that whiteboard now though; I want to know if Ben is alive or not. The nurse fusses with my IV for a minute then says, “Get some rest, honey. The more rest you get, the faster you’ll heal.” With that, she walks out. My body is apparently on par with the nurse’s orders, because I don’t remember anything after that until I hear a toilet flush and water running. I peel my eyes open to follow the source, and see Declan walk out of the bathroom in my peripheral. What is he doing here? Where the fuck is my whiteboard? Declan turns to see me awake and confused, and he walks over to me with a small smile. “Hey, Meg. How are you feeling?” Like I’ve been choked. I just raise my eyebrows at him. I really don’t think it requires comment. He catches on and smiles sheepishly. What the hell? Declan is sheepish about nothing. “Right. Well, I…” He stops and clears his throat. “I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to apologize.” Apologize? He sits in the seat next to my bed and holds on to one of my hands, staring at it intently. “It’s my fault you were attacked. It’s my fault you weren’t protected. I knew weird shit was happening and I had my suspicions, But I was so caught up in our relationship that I never thought to pull my head out of my ass and consider past my own needs to your safety.” He finally brings his eyes to mine, the mossgreen orbs glazed with his unshed tears. He’s crazy to think this was his fault. I was the one ignoring the signs. Where is my whiteboard? These words are doing no good staying in my head. I lift the hand he isn’t holding and

start writing on air, hoping he’ll get the idea. He does, grabbing the board and marker that were lying on a side table. The nurse must’ve brought it during the night. Regrettably, I have to lift my other hand from under his so I can write. “Bullshit. I did it to myself. Ignored the signs.” He reads and shakes his head, looking back to me. “The fuck it is. I should have been there to protect you.” “Life isn’t like movies, remember? You helped prepare me. I used what you taught. ☺ ” He huffs out a laugh. “No, Meg. Don’t you see?” His gaze searches mine, imploringly. “See what?” “I should have been there. If I hadn’t been in denial for weeks on end, you and I would have been together. I could have prevented this.” “Been together?” “Yeah, baby. I fucking love you. I’ve loved you since the first time I met you. I saw your smile light up the room and I was a selfish-enough bastard to want to keep it for myself.” I’m stunned. My hand/voice stays limply at my side, so he continues. “You asked me a question once, ‘why now?’ and I didn’t answer, right?” I give a tiny nod. “It wasn’t that I’d just noticed you, Meg. I knew exactly who you were, and what you would mean to me if I let it happen. When you started to actively pursue me, I decided not to hold back anymore. If you were ready, I was ready.” He huffs a self-deprecating laugh. “That’s what I thought, anyway. When you told me you loved me, I freaked the fuck out.” This warrants comment. “Obviously,” I write. He nods in agreement. “You were it for me, Meg, and I knew it. At the last second, at the moment it counted, I hesitated.” “And you’re not hesitating now? Because I almost got killed?” I ask out of genuine curiosity, not sure if I like that being his only motivation. “I tried to call you, Meg. That night. I thought you were ignoring me, so I went to your place to force you to listen and I drove up on a scene that gave me a fucking heart attack.” I vaguely remember hearing my phone ring during the struggle and realize it must have been him. “You were unresponsive in some cop’s arms. There were ambulances and a fucking fire truck. Emergency response people swarming the whole goddamn place.” Wow. That sounds excessive, considering both participants were out cold. Speaking of which… “Where’s Ben?” He looks downright proud. “He bled out, Meg.” “Really?” I’m almost shaking with relief, but I need reassurance. “You got him in the stomach and that guy was on a fuck-ton of medication, not that it did him any good. The doctor said one had a side effect of being a blood thinner. You’ll never have to worry about him again, Meg.” Oh, my God. Those words should cause me to feel guilt, but I don’t. I can’t. I’m so overwhelmed with the freedom, the weight lifting from my shoulders. I can be me again. Declan’s image starts to swim as my eyes fill with tears. He leans forward briefly and kisses my

cheek lightly. “I’m so proud of you, Meg.” I wipe the tears away to clear up my vision. “I heard your voice. Telling me not to give up.” He leans forward again. “Meg. Please, forgive me. I was scared. I was scared to take the leap. You’re it for me, Meg. You always have been. I’m sorry I pushed you away.” Tears stream down his face. Despite his being an asshole to me, I know what he’s saying is true. I can see it in his eyes, earnest and vulnerable. And he finally answered my question. When I pull back out of his hands, his previously hopeful face falls. “I thought the same thing.” He turns his confused face to mine. “About what?” “When I first saw you,” I write. When I see he’s read that, I wipe it away and continue. “I saw you smile for the first time. I wanted to be the reason you did that.” I erase that after he’s read it. “Then I heard you laugh. I wanted that sound to keep me warm at night. It was like nothing I’d ever heard before, and I knew it was one of a kind.” I’ve watched his face transform ever since I pulled away from his hands. First from sad, to afraid as I started to write, to amusement as I mention his smile and our shared thought, and love as I write about his laugh. I place the board and marker down on my lap and grip his face in my hands. He breathes out, “I love you, Meg. Will you let me love you?” I smile and pull his face to mine in answer, kissing him. When he moves back, he’s sporting a shit-eating grin. “Thank fuck. Although, you know I’d have never let you go, no matter what you said.” I roll my eyes playfully at him then pick up the board and marker again. “So, this is it? I can use my own name and credit cards again?” “Yeah, baby. No more looking over your shoulder.” A thought occurs to me and I write, “Lily? I need to call her!” I need to tell her what happened! Or text, or something. He reads my panic and laughs, “She’s on her way. I called her the morning after you got here, got her a plane ticket.” He looks at his watch. “Allie should be here with her soon, only left to get her from the airport.” Oh, shit, Allie! She must have been shocked to learn everything I’ve been keeping from her. I cringe. She must hate me. I didn’t mean to lie to her; I just didn’t want her to worry. Declan picks up on my anxiety. “Don’t worry. She’s your best friend and she loves you. Wiley and I sat her down when she got here to explain what was going on. She was more afraid for your health than angry at how she didn’t know.” I close my eyes. I hope he’s right. I couldn’t live with myself if she hated me. From the doorway, I hear, “Oh, I’m angry, all right.” My eyes fly to Allie as she walks towards me, careful not to move my head. She stops by my bedside, not looking angry at all. “But I understand. Can’t maintain a secret identity if it’s not secret.”

I smile gratefully at her acceptance and she leans down to kiss my cheek. She straightens and puts her hands on her hip, her expression turning serious again. “When you’re better, I will have to kick your ass in punishment. Just know that.” A breathy snort erupts, the only evidence of a laugh, so I write on my board, “I understand.” At her nod, I remember where she came from and I search behind Allie, looking for Lily. When I don’t see her, I start to write, “Where’s—” But I’m interrupted by a gasp. I look up again. There she is, walking towards me from the doorway, hands covering her mouth in horror as tears fall from her eyes. I smile, so happy to see her. I immediately erase what I was going to write and start again. “Hey, now! I am fucking beautiful! Don’t look so horrified.” Trying to lighten the mood. It sort of works. Allie smiles and Declan laughs and leans down to kiss me, whispering, “Yes, you are.” Allie steps back from my side to let Lily get close to me. She holds my left hand in both of hers. “It’s my fault, Meg. I lead him straight to you, didn’t I?” Oh, for fuck’s sake. I use my right hand to write on the board. It’s awkward with it lying on my lap, but I don’t want to let go of Lily. “Will you people stop blaming yourselves?” “You people?” she questions. But her gaze finds Declan’s in answer. I erase to make space and write out, “None of you walked into my home with the intention of killing me.” I glare at Lily, then at Declan in equal measures. I erase the board and write out, “The only person who holds blame in this is Ben.” Lily leans down and gives me a tight hug. I’m not sure she believes me yet, but she will in time. “I’m so glad it’s over now.” I nod slightly against her hair and grip her tighter. “Me too,” I manage to whisper. I’m so lucky to have the people in my life that I do. The love and understanding from everyone is overwhelming. I can say I have walked through fire and come out on the other side stronger. Not everyone is lucky enough to lay claim to that. I loved this story, it flows really smoothly. The interaction between most of the characters is good (not Ben). Electricity flew off the pages from Meg and Declan. Steamy hot electricity. Lol I would have loved this to be a longer story. A chapter telling of when Allie told Wiley she was pregnant would be good. Including a bit about them telling everyone if the pregnancy.