A sense of sadness swelled up in Tyler's chest as he stepped into the motel room. The whole ride from Miranda's apartment, his mind contrived new ways to go see her again. Stepping into his room only solidified their separation. Of course, he could find her at the bank. Maybe a dinner, a movie, bowling? Tyler groaned and ran a hand through his hair. He was acting ridiculous. Like a teenager again, who plotted 'coincidental' meetings with his crush.
“Where have you been? I've been trying to get hold of you!” Jack stormed out of the bathroom, dressed in jeans with a towel coiled across the back of his shoulders. His eyebrows lowered in anger and his eyes brightened by worry as he advanced on Tyler.
Tyler cocked an eyebrow, confused by Jack's sudden irritation. There had been plenty weekends where either one of them disappeared with a pretty thing. A small bead of guilt rolled about his thoughts. He had blatantly ignored uncharacteristic texts. Tyler forced a shrug to his shoulders and an airy lilt to his words, “I was enjoying my vacation.”
“Yeah, well vacation is cut short, Ty.” Jack's expression pinched and soured.
“Why?”
“Lloyd found me Saturday.” Tyler's blood ran cold and his stomach clenched. Jack's expression darkened with discomfort. “Pete knows we blew the whistle and wants us back ASAP. Lloyd owes me, so he gave us some time to pack up and get out.”
The world felt like it had spun out beneath Tyler's feet. His stomach clenched and nausea rose in his thoughts. Thoughts of Miranda danced about his head. He clamped down on them. No, he had to sever the tie before it got any worse.
The whole reason for their trip was for distance and safety. Jack, being the only number-savvy member of the Blacksteel Bandits, had confided in Tyler about some number discrepancy in the books. Upon further investigation, the numbers all traced back to their president. After handing the necessary proof to one of the senior members, Jack and Tyler rode of into the sunset for a vacation approved a week prior.
Tyler clenched his fists, unable to look at Jack as he asked, “How long?”
“Tonight, by ten,” Jack muttered, his hollow tone laced with irritation. Obviously, Tyler should have addressed his calls and texts sooner.
“Shit.” Tyler hissed and ran his hand through his hair. Weighted disappointment slammed into his stomach. Of all the foolish, stupid things he had done, this took the cake. Yet, he couldn't find it in him to regret any second spent with Miranda.
Tyler clamped down on all thoughts of her. He tied them up and shoved them into a mental box, into a far corner of his mind. They had plans to make. They needed to pack, check out, empty his bank account. The thought of the bank made Tyler's brain freeze. Miranda would be there. His stomach lurched unhappily before his inner biker took over.
Tough shit for Miranda. Tyler had to do anything to stay alive, even if that meant breaking her heart. Again. It also meant keeping her safe. The thought brought the taste of bile to Tyler's tongue. He didn't want to leave. He didn't want to turn his back on Miranda – again. But he had no choice. If he stayed, he wouldn't stay away from her. Tyler's stomach dropped to his knees, imagining what Pete would do if he found out about her.
* * *
As soon as Tyler stepped into the bank, the silence descended immediately. Eyes were on him and whispers followed. Faintly, he wondered if anyone had recognized him by now. That thought made Tyler's skin itch with uncertainty. This time, however, he was alone, which made it worse. Jack was busy packing up and preparing for the long road ahead, so it couldn't be helped.
He made his way to the tellers' counter. The line had suddenly dispersed as soon as he joined it. A bald man stood behind the counter when Tyler stepped forward. “How may I help you, sir?”
Tyler leaned on the counter and hunched his shoulders. His eyes darted around the back area, faintly wondering where Miranda was. He didn't want to see her with the request he had. “I'd like to close my account.”
“Certainly, sir,” the man answered with crisp professionalism. His smile retained that glassy expression as he asked Tyler a few questions. After gaining the information he needed, and accessing Tyler's account, the bald man asked, “Is there another bank account you'd like to transfer your money to?”
Tyler forced himself to remain breezy and cool. He hated the runaround banks gave him, especially when it entailed a good deal of money. It was his money, wasn't it? “No, I'd like to cash it all out.”
The teller's eyebrows twitched upward, almost imperceptibly. The air in Tyler's lungs locked. This was going to be a problem. He could smell it on the air. The teller retrieved his smile, though, and replied, “I'll need to go get my manager to make sure it's okay.”
Before Tyler could answer, the man scurried away. He puffed out a sigh of exasperation. The less he saw Miranda, the less likely he'd want to spend another night with her. His stomach coiled unhappily as he heard her familiar footfalls on the carpet.
“Mr. Ferguson,” Miranda smiled glassily at him. She was all professionalism. “I hear you want to take all your money out.”
Tyler couldn't meet her eye. He kept his face trained on her, though his gaze flickered elsewhere behind his sunglasses. He simply nodded and grunted, “Yep.”
“That's a lot of money to carry on your person.” Her warning tone had a lick of worry to it. When older patrons wanted to cash out their seventy-odd thousand dollars, there was quite a lot of hoopla. Thankfully, though Tyler had a decent amount of cash in his bank account, he didn't have enough to call for an escort out. Besides, he was a big, strong biker. No one would posit a complaint about her breach of protocol.
He hunched his shoulders and pursed his lips. “I know.”
“All right, I'll handle this, Lenny.” Miranda smiled as her employee scurried away. She turned back to the computer, resisting the urge to frown. She typed in the override commands, adding a note that the patron was out-of-town. Faintly, she wondered if her mother – who took to overseeing most transactions – would recognize Tyler's name.
The musing of her mother didn't quite overwrite the other thoughts circulating in Miranda's head. Tyler was taking all of his money from his account. That meant he was leaving. Her heart ached and the back of her eyes burned. She took deep, inconspicuous breaths through her nose. She couldn't turn into a puddle of tears while at work – especially, not in the middle of a transaction.
As her fingers clacked across the keyboard, she took a straightened her thoughts. Whatever Tyler did, it was his business. They weren't dating and he had no obligation to her. Her heart hiccupped at the very thought. Regardless, Miranda turned to Tyler, her own glassy smile affixed to her lips. “Mr. Ferguson, typically, we have a waiting period to withdraw money from the bank. It's highly unusual to withdraw everything.”
For a second, anger flickered across his features, followed closely by a pinched worry. Who was a bank to decide when and how he could have his money? And if he didn't take it all, they'd have a credit trail, easily traceable by Lloyd or Pete. The thought made Tyler's stomach fall to his knees.
He ran his hand through his hair, his brows furrowing. Before he could manage to mutter dissent, Miranda sighed. She turned back to the computer and typed something in. Then, without a word to Tyler, she turned away and waltzed into the back room.
Overall, Legacy's bank did extremely well. The amount Tyler wanted to withdraw wasn't so extreme and wouldn't require the bank to report it. However, worry did tinge at Miranda's thoughts. Tyler breezed into town and out, again. He withdrew all of his money. And the face he made when she mentioned the odd situation. Was he in trouble? The thought made Miranda's stomach churn.
When she made her way back to the counter with the stacks of money, she switched to a numb autopilot. She counted the money, almost in an automaton-like trance. Tyler listened with dull eyes, nodding his head once she was finished. After she neatly placed the money in the bag and held it out to him, a need sliced through her thoughts. This may be the last time she ever saw him. Ever.
Something snapped in her thoughts. The weekend had been long and lovely and gratifyingly exhausting. She almost thought it would never end. Yet, it had. And here he was, withdrawing money and about to disappear off the face of the earth again.
Tyler's fingers brushed against hers. She sharply inhaled, her eyes widening as she felt sparks along her arm. Over the short distance, she and Tyler locked gazes. Heat and pressure slammed between them. Miranda knew what she wanted.
“Mr. Ferguson, I must discuss a few things with you in my office,” Miranda lied through her teeth. The back of her neck warmed under the curious glances of her many co-workers. She pushed all of her embarrassment and uncertainty away. This might be her last chance. Plus, she was the bank manager. She could make unorthodox requests. She just needed a good lie for later when her family and co-workers asked.
After they stepped into her office, Tyler shut the door silently behind him. Miranda drew the blinds to the windows that looked into the lobby before she sauntered to her desk. She leaned against the surface while Tyler's eyes trailed around the room.
There wasn't much to it. It was done up in the same cream and cool grey motif as the rest of the bank. There were small splashes of color thanks to the mahogany desk and shelves, but – otherwise – everything was muted and dull.
Miranda tried not to think how the room represented part of her. It felt so sterile and foreign. She hated her office and she did everything she could to avoid working in the room. When she did have to sit at her desk, she would keep the door propped open or the windows flung wide. The chatter of the lobby or the heat of the sun livened up the place.
Painfully, Tyler noted there was little to no familial or friendly pictures hanging up in the room. Overall, the office was painfully sparse. When his gaze fell back to Miranda, he realized the room didn't represent her. It was a façade made up of appropriate features her family would most likely approve.
She watched him, carefully.
Tyler pulled his gaze away and ducked his head down. As he slid the paper bag of money into his inner vest pocket, he asked, “So, what's this about, Mir?”
She swallowed, her thoughts turning over a whim that had drifted in and out of her mind all morning. Well, it was no or never. Otherwise, Miranda felt she'd never have another chance. “Do you want to come over to my place tonight?”
Tyler hid his surprise and his delight. He was certain Miranda would move on after their constant time together the last few days. A part of him still rallied against the offer. “We spent the entire weekend together.”
“So, no,” murmured Miranda as she dropped her eyes to the floor. Dejection and rejection sifted through her thoughts. Faintly, she wondered if Tyler only wanted a sex-filled weekend. Was she that easy of a target for him?
“Mir, I'd love to, but–” I'm leaving and I don't want to hurt you again. That's what he wanted to add, but he couldn't find the words. He didn't want to leave and he didn't want to push her away. The very thought sent an ache through his heart.
“I get it,” Miranda sighed and held up a hand. Tyler snapped his lips shut as she continued, “I just thought, since we ordered in every night this last weekend, I could make you dinner.”
“What's on the menu?” Tyler's stomach coiled. The few times Miranda cooked for him in the past had been delicious. Even his taste buds hadn't forgotten.
“This is going to be a low blow,” Miranda laughed and smiled. It was a backup that a sneakier, sly part of her mind came up with. She felt a little bad for pulling this card, but she had long ago learned his secret weakness. With a coy grin, she said, “I was thinking of your favorite hot wings.”
“With the buffalo sauce?” Dual emotions clashed in Tyler's head. It had been so long since he had her 'Groves Family Secret' hot wings. His stomach lurched and the memory of the phenomenal taste danced across his taste buds. At the same time, his head snapped and snarled. He and Jack had to leave. The sooner, the better.
Miranda's lips curled into a smug smirk. “Yep.”
He mentally groaned. Of course she wasn't going to make this easy on him. She didn't want him to leave as much as he didn't want to leave. Even if she didn't know how close the end was. Spurred by exasperation, Tyler crossed the room. He pinned Miranda against the desk as his hands curled around her shoulders. He stooped down, his lips close to her ear as he growled, “Why are you making this so hard, Mir?”
“Isn't that my usual effect on you, Ty?” She returned, her voice becoming a husky, throat rasp. The words raked along his spine and settled in his groin. Eagerness swelled in her thoughts. She really shouldn't encourage that heated look in his eyes, but she couldn't help it. She got onto her tiptoes, the smirk still present on her lips as she whispered into his ear, “What're you going to do about it?”
Yes, that was the usual effect she had on him. His fingers tightened against her shoulders. Now, she goaded his actions. She wanted him. Tyler could smell the thick pheromones in the air and his resolution trembled.
“Be careful what you ask for, Mir.”
“Oh?” That single syllable, laced with amusement and goading, drove his desires home. He turned her around and bent her over the desk. Miranda staggered, her heels a safety hazard on the carpet. Tyler wasted no time in hiking up her skirt and running his fingers across the crotch of her panties.
Her fingers curled around the edge of her desk. Excitement throbbed through her and her breathing had already hitched slightly. She shouldn't be this excited. She should be horrified at the prospect of sex at work while on the clock. The vixen in her, the one that had reawakened with Tyler's return, didn't care, though. Delight sifted through her thoughts and her nerves fizzled with pleasure.
With a flick of his wrist, a tearing sound echoed through the air. Miranda inhaled, sharply, as her fingernails dug into her desk. He had torn her panties off. Cool, air-conditioned air kissed her ass just before Tyler's warm palms groped her ass. Miranda swallowed her whimper. She arched her back, feeling his body heat behind her.
His fingers slid into her folds, coating the digits in her moisture. Her swollen nub throbbed as his fingers swirled slowly around it. Miranda muffled her mewl of delight, her hips rocking against his ministrations. Tyler capped his own moan as his cock strained against his jeans.
Testing Miranda's sensitivity, he managed to gently pinch her nub. A harsh tremor rollicked through her body, a rough gasp escaped through clenched teeth. The brief pleasure echoed through her body, stinging and enjoyable. Under her breath, Miranda hissed, “Fuck.”
His lips twisted into a grin. His fingers clasped around her nub, giving it a gentle squeeze and a minute twist. Again, her body quivered and her breathing came out harsh. She eased when his fingers slide away from her clit. Searing shudders still licked down her body as his fingers caressed her slit.
Suddenly, Tyler thrust his fingers into her pulsing pussy. A loud moan escaped Miranda's lips before his hand slapped across her mouth. Her eyes widened, face hot and red as he pounded into her with his fingers.
Miranda whimpered against his palm. The scent of motor oil and dirt and sweat coated his hand, but she enjoyed it. It was masculine and sexy. She imagined his fingerprints leaving telltale signs on her face and people knowing what happened in her office. Her stomach flipped in delight and the tingles increased tenfold as she moaned into Tyler's hand.
Just as Miranda felt the razor's edge of release coming on, his fingers pulled out. She swallowed down her disappointed whimper. Her hips rocked back and forth, as if trying to locate his missing digits. Tyler chuckled and stepped back. The bubble of heat and hormones between them popped. Miranda pushed herself into an upright position, tugging her skirt down to recover her modesty.
When she spun on her heel, Tyler's grin split across his face. In his hand, her panties dangled. As he pocketed her undergarments, he said, “For being troublesome, I hope you enjoy going commando.”
Miranda's face flared with a blush. Her fingers curled into fists, but she was at a total loss for words. Mortification and pleasure entwined in her lower stomach, along with a pinch of frustration. Her toes curled in her shoes and her pussy throbbed in need.
“I'll see you tonight around six,” Tyler laughed, beating a hasty retreat. The blush that colored Miranda's face looked about ready to explode. He didn't want to risk being found out. She wasn't a woman who took pleasure quietly. Excitement jolted through his body at the very prospect of her moans, whimpers, and mewls. As he imagined them, his internal temperature rose.
It was a short-lived heat wave. As soon as he crossed the threshold from Miranda's office into the lobby, a chill settled in the air. Either the Groves were paying too much for AC or his presence was still unwelcome. Cheekily, Tyler waved to the quiet tellers, who watched him with wary eyes. Only the blonde that Jack took a liking to smiled and waved back.
Tyler stored that fact at the back of his head as he made his way for the exit. Jack was going to be pissed at the delay. Tyler couldn't find the energy to be ashamed, though. Tonight, he was getting hot wings and Miranda. Two tasty treats for a long, strenuous road ahead.
A brief flit of guilt flew through Tyler. He should at least tell her before he left. She deserved that much, even if his looming departure was obvious. Tyler sighed and ran a hand through his hair, shoving the thoughts away. He could worry about that later when he was on her doorstep.