Shayla practically lurched down Luke’s steps, digging her keys in her pocket and clutching them in a death grip.
She should have known. Goddamnit, how could Shayla have been so stupid? She’d always prided herself on her investigative skills, but what kind of reporter missed a goddamn wedding ring? Had he always been wearing it?
Obviously. He was probably that kind of dickhead—the kind who didn’t even bother to take it off. And he had probably congratulated himself the whole time he was wooing her. How hilarious he must have found it that he was able to trick her into thinking he actually cared, while he was wearing his wedding ring the whole time! The goddamn nerve of it.
The sound of the door being wrenched open behind her only made her walk faster, her feet pounding against the pavement as she all but ran toward her car.
“Shayla, wait!” Luke’s gravelly voice chased her into her driver’s seat, but she slammed the door and locked it despite his protests. “You don’t understand!”
Oh, she understood enough. She understood that she had fallen into the same trap that every goddamn person in the city had when that news story about him and the dumbass kitten had aired. Tough biker guy with adorable kitten—how sweet! He must have a big, soft heart underneath all those tattoos and muscles.
As. Fucking. If.
Shayla wrenched her key in the ignition and thrust the car into reverse, backing out of the driveway without so much as sparing a glance at the burly man who’d followed her out. At least he wasn’t pounding against her window. That would have really been pathetic.
What the hell was there to understand? That was what really pissed her off. Unless he was divorced, but his finger had swelled too much to remove his ring, and he had an appointment to have it cut off tomorrow, Shalya wasn’t interested. She wanted something real.
She should have listened to her instincts when they told her she would never have that with Luke.
Once she was zooming away down the street, the figure of Luke and his stupid house and stupid motorcycle disappearing in the rearview, Shayla let out a scream of frustration. A scream of mourning. Because she had liked Luke. She had felt something for him. Maybe it wasn’t love, but it had been the stirrings of something deep within her that had been dormant for a long time.
And now it was over, because there was nothing else that she could or would do with him.
Stupid. Goddamn. Men.
Shayla was glad it only took her a few minutes to get home. She didn’t much feel like driving, unless it meant crashing her car into every motorcycle she saw. It was probably better for her to be off the roads. And, to top it all off, she hadn’t arranged to have him on the station like Amy wanted. Not that she wanted him to be there now, but she had enjoyed the prospect of having a one up on the others at the station. For a minute, Luke had seemed like her ticket out of her internship and into a proper career.
Shayla wondered whether this hiccup would simply put her back to where she started, or if it would send her a step back, too. Who even knew with the idiots at her station.
Shayla pulled into her driveway and stormed up the front steps, slamming the door behind her and locking herself inside the house. Nobody would find her here. At least not for another few hours, until she was expected at the station for work. She’d have to think up something to say to Amy in the meantime.
Shayla walked toward her bedroom, intent on crawling under the covers and trying to forget about today. She pulled out her phone to set an alarm, and saw that she’d missed several calls from Anthony. That was curious. He never called her. And, to be honest, she had hoped he never would. He was a slimy snake covered in goo, and she wanted nothing to do with him. She just hoped—prayed—that it was work related.
She checked her voicemail, and there was one new one. “Hey Shayla, this is Anthony Blake calling. Call me back. This is important.”
That sounded work related, at least. Unless he considered booty calls to be important. Shayla tapped his name to call him back, continuing her walk to her bed. He picked up just as she had settled down under the duvet.
“Anthony Blake speaking.”
“Hey, it’s Shayla.”
“Shayla, yes. Hi. Naomi will not be returning to the station this evening, and we want you to fill in on a trial basis until we can find a new anchor.”
Straight to business, it would seem. Shayla stifled a gasp and pursed her lips. “What happened to Naomi? Is she okay?”
Anthony let out an exasperated sigh. “She’s fine. It doesn’t matter. Make sure you’re at work a little early so we can have you properly made up. You looked too pale last time.”
Shayla scowled. Trust him to make good news sound like awful news. Not only was she still worried about Naomi, but he’d insulted her too. Why had the station ever hired this idiot in the first place? Surely there had to be someone just as capable of reading the news as him in Templeton. Maybe some hobo on the street. Anything could be better than Anthony Blake’s smug face.
“Well, thank you for the opportunity.” Shayla decided being grateful and polite would be a better response then telling him how she really felt. He’d been such a jerk to her last time, she really didn’t want to get on his nerves. It seemed like everything at the station went smoother if Anthony Blake was happy.
Click.
He’d hung up on her. What a jerk. Couldn’t even be bothered to waste his breath on a goodbye. Shayla wondered why Anthony wasn’t more upset about Naomi. They seemed like they were pretty close. Well, anytime Shayla had seen them together, Anthony looked to be doing his usual work of being the world’s biggest asshole, but he and Naomi spent a lot of time together. Naomi wasn’t an idiot, so if she didn’t want to be spending time with Anthony, then surely she wouldn’t have?
Anyway, all that was a problem for later. Right now, Shayla was only concerned with getting into her bed and napping away the few hours she had until work. At least if she was asleep she wouldn’t have to deal with the pain in her gut that was cutting through her like a knife.