Chapter Two
“These finals are going to kill me.”
Tiffany smiled, tucked her feet under her, and spared Donna a glance. The tall brunette with shoulder length hair, a straight “A” student, could be melodramatic.
“Sure.” Marianne rolled her eyes, pushed her long, flaming red hair behind her, and then took a sip of wine.
Donna, sitting on the blue couch beside Tiffany, leaned forward. “I’m serious. I’m going to fail at least two.”
The last time they heard this was during midterms. Donna passed with A’s. Tiffany exchanged a look with Marianne, sitting on an armchair across from her and Donna, then they burst into a fit of giggles. The alcohol partly to blame. Each of them was on their second glass.
Donna’s brows furrowed, her shoulders slumped. “I’m serious.”
They laughed harder. Marianne recovered first. “You’re already valedictorian of our class, what more do you want?”
Donna rolled her eyes.
Tiffany looked between the two, and not for the first time realized how much she’d miss them after graduation.
She met them her freshman year at UCLA, close to four long years ago. Marianne, like her, was a double major though Marianne studied English and journalism. Donna, a biology major with plans to go to medical school, had already been accepted. Whether they studied the same major didn’t matter much.
They lived in the same apartment building during those four years, just across the hall from each other, got to know one another, and shared the belief school came before parties, booze, and boys. Naturally, they clicked. Not that they didn’t party every now and then. They’d been to frat parties, bars, and clubs, experienced Los Angeles for all it was worth, but it wasn’t their focus. They drove to campus together, stayed at the library studying past hours together, attended football games together, and shopped together. Even Sundays, the day they’d aptly named, “the day for relaxation,” they spent together.
She confided in Marianne and Donna when she decided to break up with her last and only “real” boyfriend, Mark. They knew, too, how terrified she was about her stalker.
Looking at them then, sitting on the blue couch in Marianne and Donna’s apartment, a couch they’d sat on, talked, gossiped about celebrities they did not know, and spilled numerous drinks on, in an apartment much like hers, but smaller, it hit her. She had two weeks left with them, two weeks left of this life she grew to love. Sure, they’d keep in touch, call, email, and text as much as they could, but they’d part ways. Donna would attend the University of Miami’s Miller School of Medicine in Florida. Marianne would head off to a small town in Oklahoma for her very first broadcast reporting job, and she’d go home to Wadden where she’d hopefully get a job in education.
Tiffany spent the last several years double majoring in business and early childhood education. The former she studied for her father. The latter for herself. She always knew what she wanted to do. Now, after close to four years of dull business classes, she couldn’t see herself submersed in the field, reaffirming she wanted to do what she’d always dreamed of doing. Four years hadn’t changed it.
“You’re thinking about him,” Donna whispered.
She drew her gaze away from the television, now off, and released a breath. “The stalker, no. I was—”
“Not him.” Donna shook her head. “Him, your boy from back home.”
Her boy from back home, Thomas. They knew about Thomas, too, knew the whole story. Her best friends knew she got one look at him the first day of her freshman year of high school and fell, hard and fast. They knew even when her parents allowed her to date, he never asked her, knew her first date went very bad, very quick, and he’d been the one to save her, but it landed him in jail. They knew a few years later, he saved her, again. They knew he never wanted anything from her, not a relationship, not even friendship. He saved her twice, but every chance he had, he pushed her away.
Marianne and Donna also knew Thomas was partly the reason she broke up with Mark. Mark Cooper, her first “real” boyfriend, was an amazing man, handsome, kind, loyal, from a good family, and her parents loved him, but something had been missing. That something, the flutter of butterflies in her stomach, the rush of adrenaline whenever he neared—what she felt with Thomas.
Both Marianne and Donna warned her that flutter was the adolescent sign of puppy love or a crush, and that it didn’t last. They claimed she felt it with Thomas for so long because she never had Thomas and advised her against breaking up with Mark. In the end, she had, knowing deep down, something wasn’t right, wasn’t what it should be. Maybe it was her own fault. She never gave Mark her heart. She couldn’t give her heart to a man when she’d given it to another and never got it back.
“I wasn’t. I was—”
Marianne lifted a brow. “Know the look when you are, and you totally were.”
Damn. Even after all this time?
They were right. She’d been thinking of going home, and for a split second, his face came to mind. He had a beautiful face. Not just face, everything. He was beautiful. Tall, built, strong, his hair so dark, it looked midnight blue. A square-jaw, thick dark brows, eyes round and big and a captivating sapphire blue in color. His eyes killed her, so hard to tear her gaze from them.
She shrugged and half lied. “I wasn’t. I was thinking about how much I’m going to miss you guys after graduation.”
Donna smiled. “We’re going to miss you too, but we’ll keep in touch.”
Marianne smirked then looked at Donna. “When are the guys headed over?”
Her eyes widened. One arm shot toward the back of the couch, she straightened. “Guys? What guys? I thought this was a girls’ night.”
“We invited Josh, Chris, and…” Donna looked away from her and toward Marianne for a split second before she admitted, “Mark.”
Her jaw dropped. No, not Mark!
Josh and Chris were friends of theirs whom they met through Mark. While she dated Mark, they often hung out together. After the break-up, four months prior, they’d remained friends. They hung out still with the exception of Mark. He’d been hurt when she ended their relationship, and despite wanting to remain friends, she knew it had been difficult for him to be around her just as friends.
“Mark? I can’t believe… Why would you guys? You know he still has feelings for me.”
“Yeah, that’s why we invited him. Maybe, you’ll finally realize you need to get over Thomas, the hot biker, and move on. Mark is perfect.”
“You guys know why that’s all kinds of wrong, right?” She looked between the two. From their expressions, she knew they didn’t.
When neither one of them responded, she bit the side of her lip. “Okay, well, I’ll point out the obvious. We dated for close to two years. If during that time I didn’t fall for him, nothing’s going to change now.”
“You were young and stupid.” Marianne took a sip of her wine.
She rolled her eyes. “Thanks.”
Donna, sitting beside her, grasped her hand and squeezed it. “Listen, we’re both thinking about what’s best for you. It’s been more than seven years. From the stories you’ve told us, he’s not interested, has never been. He sees you like a girl. To him, you’ll always be that.”
Shit. She knew it was true. Thomas never saw her as anything but a girl, one he saved twice, but it hurt to hear it said aloud.
Donna gave her a soft smile. “Besides, you barely know him.”
Also true. In high school, Tiffany knew of Thomas, saw him every day from a distance, but she didn’t officially meet him until the night he stepped in and saved her. After that, he made it clear he didn’t want to be friends. She couldn’t blame him. It was her fault he ended up in jail.
Her senior year of high school, she’d been on her way to meet her then boyfriend’s parents when her tire blew out. She had to call a tow truck and instructed the driver to take her to the nearest garage. Her luck, Thomas worked there. That day, he changed her tire, free of charge, despite her insisting she pay. Just as she was about to drive off, she lowered her window to say goodbye. Resting his weight on his elbows, he leaned in and said, “My number’s in your glove compartment. You ever need anything, you call me, ‘kay?”
She called once. Her freshman year of college during Christmas break, she went to a house party with a few of her high school friends and got too drunk. She refused to call her parents, her friends, with the exception of one, were with her, and she couldn’t call that one friend that wasn’t, primarily because that friend, Tina, had a daughter. She had bigger problems, didn’t have time to bail her out. Tiffany had no one else and so, she called him that one time, then never again. That night, he made it clear, he hadn’t meant what he said, hadn’t wanted her to contact him if she was ever in trouble.
Three interactions. That was it, three, and none of them were good.
“It’s about time you get over Thomas and move on.”
Yes, definitely. Still, she couldn’t see herself moving on with Mark. Even though she’d never loved him the way she should’ve, she loved him as a person, as a friend, and as a man. He’d been hurt when she broke up with him. She couldn’t stand the thought of hurting him again.
“I know.” She cleared her throat. “I know it’s time, and I love Mark but not that way. It’s a bad idea to encourage him. I can’t hurt him again.”
They nodded but didn’t look convinced.
The doorbell rang. Her stomach hollowed out. Marianne hopped off the chair and headed for the door.
“Wait.” She leaned forward, set her wine glass on the cherry wood coffee table in front of her. “What if it’s my stalker?”
Marianne pulled a can of pepper spray from her back pocket and smirked. “Got it covered.”
She burst out laughing then leaned back on the couch. Her friends were the best, really.
“It’s them!” Marianne shouted.
A moment later, Josh, Chris, and Mark strode into the living room with a twelve pack of beer. Mark’s dark gaze met hers and softened. He smiled and settled beside her in a recliner. Josh took a seat on an ottoman beside Marianne’s armchair, and Chris sat on the floor, his back leaning against the wall, next to the bookshelf beside the television, legs stretched out in front of him.
Mark grabbed a beer, uncapped the top, and took a sip. “How you been?”
“Good. You?”
He shrugged. “Finals are going to kick my ass.”
Donna stilled. Tiffany turned her head and saw her eyes narrow. “That’s because you’re a procrastinator, and don’t study until the day before.”
He grinned, not denying it true. Mark never studied. Still, he managed to get straight A’s. Come spring, he would attend Harvard Law.
Her gaze flew toward the wall beside the TV, two bookshelves stood there with numerous textbooks. In front of them, countless frames with pictures, pictures of all of them including Mark, but mostly of Donna, Marianne, and her.
A knock sounded on the door. She exchanged a look with Marianne and Donna. Her stomach rolled.
Josh uncapped a beer. “Who else’s invited?”
“No one.”
Her stalker. No doubt. He followed her everywhere, knocked on her door in the middle of the night, broke into her apartment. He did everything and anything he could to terrify her.
She stood. “I’ll get it.”
Donna grabbed her hand, stopping her. “Oh, no, you don’t.”
“I’ll get it.” Marianne smiled. “I’m the one with the weapon.” She then stood and headed out of sight.
Mark looked to her. “Weapon?”
He didn’t know about her stalker. The only people who knew the whole story were Marianne and Donna. Not even the cops knew everything. She mentioned something to her mother and father, but they didn’t know the extent of it, not even close. Stupid maybe, but she didn’t want to worry them. Besides, she would graduate in two weeks, be home for good, and free of her stalker.
To avoid the question, she shrugged.
“Oh, shit,” Marianne said, sounding shocked.
Great. Her stalker. Tiffany went to stand then stilled when a figure appeared at the threshold into the living room, and a set of piercing sapphire eyes snared her.
Those eyes… Those eyes she could never forget. How she thought she could for a split second, she had no clue.
As she thought this, she had no doubt the alcohol had gone straight to her head. No way was she seeing what she was. She blinked repeatedly and quickly then grabbed the arm of the couch, her fingers gripping tightly.
He didn’t fade.
He was there.
Thomas stood, tall and wide, taking up the entire entry way. Bigger, broader than she remembered, wearing a pair of faded jeans and a black shirt that stretched across his muscled chest. His midnight black hair shaved on the sides and back and tousled on top. That was different since the last time she’d seen him, but not the only thing. The tattoo on his right shoulder and the top of his arm now covered the length of it, all the way to his wrist.
Still so handsome, still so Thomas.
One look and a rush of raw emotions flooded her. Insane. It was like they’d never faded. Her pulse raced, her mind scrambled, her heart clenched.
Donna gasped. “Shit.”
Chris set his beer on the floor and tensed, something she caught from the corner of her eye. “Who’s he?”
Thomas ignored them. His beautiful big, sapphire eyes deadlocked on hers. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Tiff.”
“You know him?” Josh asked sounding abashed. She didn’t know if he looked it since her gaze stayed glued to Thomas.
Her breaths shallow, she nodded.
The muscles in his shoulders and arms tensed. Thomas took a step toward her. “Up, let’s go.”
It got her talking, fast. “W-what?”
His eyes narrowed.
Angry Thomas. This didn’t bode well. He could go from zero to sixty in a split second. She knew this for a fact having seen it happen twice, the two times he saved her.
He uncrossed his arms, dropping them to his sides, and fisted his hands. “Been awake for close to forty hours, and I’m tired. Not gonna convince you of shit, so get your ass up before I carry you out myself.”
“Tiff, how do you know this guy?”
What. The. Hell. Oh, no. Oh, no. No. No. He would not and could not barge into her life after years of nothing and demand anything from her.
Tensing, she glared. “What are you doing here?”
He lifted his chin. “Get your ass off that couch and steer it in my direction.”
Wow.
Just wow.
Her eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. “Have you lost your mind?”
“I’m pretty close if you don’t do what I say.”
Why the hell would she? Her jaw clenched. “I’m not doing anything you say.”
He smirked. “All right, we’ll have it out right here.” He spared a glance around the room, met her eyes again, and hardened his. “You’re a radar for shit men.”
He had a point there. She was a radar for shit men, except for Mark. Not Mark.
“So what I’m doing here is taking care of your problem, the asshole who’s been bothering you for months.”
What? How the hell did he know? Instead of asking, she asked another very important question. “Why?”
“’Cause your father paid me to do it.”
Her jaw dropped, gut twisted. “Why?” Her voice came out high pitched and shaky.
“’Cause he didn’t want you dealing with it anymore.”
Not what she meant. She knew why her dad would. Her father loved her, wanted the best for her, didn’t want her dealing with a creep. What she didn’t know—why he’d go to Thomas or why Thomas would help her. “Why you?”
He took another step in her direction, his gaze spitting fire. “Why not me?”
“Because you want nothing to do with me.” Yes, that came out of her mouth, something she shouldn’t have brought up because it showed she cared, and she shouldn’t care.
He clenched his jaw so hard she thought it’d crack. “Who the fuck said that?”
“I think you’ve made it perfectly clear the last few times we’ve seen each other.”
His nostrils flared. “Oh, yeah? You got that from me saving your ass from Miles and getting locked up for it?”
She flinched. Every time she remembered what saving her cost him, she couldn’t help it. Right then, it was worse because he brought it up. Her whole body shook with the strength of her jerk.
“You got that from me fixing your tire, not even charging you? You got that from me picking your ass up after that asshole spiked your drink? You got that from me telling you anytime you had a problem to come to me?”
No, she got that from him being a dick like he was now. “No, Thomas, I got that from you telling me we shouldn’t be friends after you got locked up for saving me. I got that from you storming away after fixing my tire, and I got that from you telling me you had to give up good pussy to go get me when my drink was spiked.”
She caught sight of a man, tall and tatted and scary, striding into the living room. It had to be a friend of Thomas’s, another biker. Marianne poked her head out from behind him. Stupidly and belatedly, she realized they were having it out in front of an audience. Her cheeks flamed.
When she met his stare again, his eyes hardened to slits. “Get. Your. Ass. Off. The. Couch.”
Tiffany looked away, brought her hands to her head, pressed her fingers against her temple, and sighed heavily before she met his stare again. She needed to fix this situation, fast. “Let’s take a moment to compose ourselves—”
A vein in his neck pulsed. Through gritted teeth, he barked, “I ain’t composin’ shit ’cause I’m fuckin’ pissed, and you keep riling me.”
She forced her voice to calm. “My dad paid you to do something without my consent. I’m assuming you already did it, so I don’t understand why you’re here and why you’re so angry.”
The corded muscles on his neck strained against his skin. “’Cause your dad shouldn’t be paying me to handle your shit. I told you, I’d handle your shit for free. I told you, you had a problem to come to me, and this dick’s been bothering you for months, and you haven’t called me.” He jabbed a finger at her. “You promised.”
Not just the hottest man on the face of the earth, he was also the most complex. After everything, why would she call him? Why did he expect her to? “Why would I, Thomas?”
He fisted his hands. “’Cause I told you to and ’cause you fuckin’ promised.”
Why, oh, why did he say things like that? They made her believe he cared. Only to be let down when he eventually said or did something to prove he didn’t. He had to stop.
She forced a chuckle. “You’re not my boss nor are you my bodyguard. You’re not even my friend. I haven’t even seen you for years.”
“No shit, I ain’t your boss. You’re lucky I’m not ’cause you’d be bent over my lap, and I’d be spanking you for this shit play.”
Her breath hitched.
“You’ve managed to piss me off so much. You’re lucky I didn’t get you alone. Had I, I’d still be spanking you right now.”
Her cheeks flamed. “Don’t be so coarse.”
“I’m a biker. Before that, baby girl, I was from the wrong side of the tracks.” He cocked his head to the side. “Remember?”
A biker, yes. He joined sometime after he graduated from high school. Wrong side of the tracks, no. He just didn’t come from money, and everyone knew this. Everyone in a small town like Wadden knew everything about everyone. Baby girl? No, she wasn’t a baby or girl. She was a woman. Twenty-one, soon to be twenty-two.
She grit her teeth and stood from her position on the couch. Even so, she had to tilt her head back to look him in the eyes. “I’m twenty-one, asshole. I’m not a baby or a girl.” How she managed to keep her voice level, she’d never know.
He took a long menacing stride toward her, passing Donna sitting beside her and in between them. Then he bent, pressed his shoulder against her stomach, grasped her behind the knees, and straightened, lifting her so her butt was in the air.
He did this so fast the air rushed out of her. Her hands went to his back to steady herself, fingers digging into his skin. “Thomas Layne! Let me go, Thomas! I swear, I’ll—”
He slapped her on the rear. Not hard but firm. She jerked then stilled as a rush of liquid pooled in her center, silencing her.
“Quiet, baby girl. I gotta headache, and your voice, as sweet as it is, is making it worse.”
What an asshole. She wiggled in his grasp, trying to loosen his hold. “I can’t believe you spanked me.”
“You don’t want me to do it again, I suggest you hold still and stop moving. I don’t wanna drop you.”
“Then let me go.” She wiggled.
He spanked her ass again. Harder. Then she heard and felt his body move when he chuckled. The heat on her cheeks trailed down her neck.
“Turns me on, Tiff. Don’t wanna make me do it again.”
God! He was infuriating. “Thomas Layne, put me down or I’ll…I’ll have my friends call the cops.”
He scoffed. “Wouldn’t be the first time I get locked up for you.”
She flinched and quit struggling. She stayed there, butt in air, feeling her stomach sour. No other option now, she said, “I’ll go with you if you put me down.”
“I’d ask you to promise, but I know you don’t keep promises, least not with me. Like I said, I’m tired, so I’m gonna put you down.” His voice thick and firm, no longer humorous. “If I do it and you try to run from me, Tiff, I’ll fuckin’ chase you, and I will catch you. When I catch you, I’m gonna be more pissed. Get me?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
He trailed his hands from her thighs to her waist then set her down. Once her feet hit the floor, she shoved him, hard. He didn’t move, not a muscle. “You’re a bigger asshole than I thought.”
The asshole had the gall to smirk. He leaned into her until a breath away then whispered, “Yeah, baby girl, I am, so keep that shit in mind when dealing with me.”
Her eyes narrowed. “It’ll be hard to forget.”
She turned and met Marianne and Donna’s gazes. Before she could apologize, Marianne whispered, “Totally get it now.”
Josh laughed. “Watching that was better than anything on HBO.”
She glared at Josh then met Mark’s gaze. One look at his pained stare, and she knew he knew. Thomas was the reason she’d never been able to fall for him.
She grabbed her phone off the coffee table, hugged Marianne and Donna goodbye, then Josh and Chris leaving Mark for last. He wrapped his arms tight around her. She snaked hers around his waist. Then he leaned into her ear and whispered, “Be happy, Tiff,” proving what she always knew to be true.
Mark was an amazing man who loved her enough to let her go, to want her happiness above his. A rush of tears clouded her vision, wishing what she had so many times before, that she could love Mark the way he loved her.
Her arms tightened around his waist. “I wish I could—”
Pulling away, his eyes softened in that way she’d seen time and time again. “Don’t say it. It’ll only make it harder for me, and it’s hard enough already.”
Hard for her too. He’d never know just how hard.