Page 74 of Texting the Wrong Bikers

The simple answer loosens my shoulders. “Really? But you’ve all been so good to me, to Owen. I feel so ungrateful.”

“No,” he repeats. “You’re human.”

For a moment, neither of us speaks. Then the words I’ve been carrying around for days finally come spilling out. “I just need some breathing room. Nothing crazy. I don’t want to run away or do anything stupid. I just…” I search for the right words. “I need a few hours where nobody is talking about stalkers or security cameras or protection schedules. I want to meet Dani for a drink. I want to gossip and complain and pretend my life isn’t completely insane for one evening.”

Understanding appears in his eyes. Unfortunately, so does concern. “Sadie.”

I groan. “Don’t.”

His smile appears briefly. “I wasn’t going to say no.”

Hope flickers. “You weren’t?”

Shadow sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “I understand why you need it. Honestly, I think you’ve handled all of this better than most people would.”

“There is a but, isn’t there?”

“There is absolutely a but.” A glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

I throw my hands into the air. “Of course there is.”

His smile widens slightly. “I’ll agree on one condition.”

I narrow my eyes. “What condition?”

“I stay nearby.” Before I can protest, he continues. “You won’t know I’m there. I won’t sit at your table. I won’t interrupt girls’ night. Hell, I won’t even set foot in the same bar unless I have to. But if something happens, if somebody approaches you, or if I think you’re in danger, I’m stepping in.”

I study him for a moment. The frustrating thing is that it’s a reasonable compromise. The even more frustrating thing is that he’s right. Finally, I sigh. “Fine.”

Relief flashes briefly across his face. “Fine?”

“Fine.”

A slow smile spreads across his features. “I’ll go break the news to the others that we’re going clubbing, and they’re staying in with Owen.”

I wince. “God, that makes it sound awful.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll just tell them the truth. You need a few hours away from the clubhouse. I’m gonna be watching from a distance.”

I smile. “Good luck with that.” Even dressed up, he’s going to have his work cut out to convince Trigger, and Chief is so controlling that I doubt he’ll like it; even Dash won’t be keen on the idea.

Shadow actually laughs. “I’ll need it.”

The thought of Trigger’s reaction alone is enough to make me feel sorry for him. Still, as Shadow heads for the door and I move toward the wardrobe to start getting ready, I feel lighter than I have in days. For the first time in weeks, I have something that belongs entirely to me—a night with my best friend, a few hours of freedom, and hopefully, enough distance to finally figure out what the hell I’m supposed to do about four very different men who seem determined to occupy every corner of my heart.

By the time I make my way downstairs, I’m feeling considerably more optimistic about the evening. The simple act of getting ready has helped. After weeks of stress, fear, and endless discussions about stalkers, spending an hour focusing on something as ordinary as choosing a dress feels strangely therapeutic. I’ve curled my hair into loose waves that fall over my shoulders, added enough makeup to make my eyes stand out without looking overdone, and squeezed myself into a dark green dress that hugs my curves before falling to mid-thigh. Paired with black heels that I will undoubtedly regret after a few hours, the overall effect is considerably more glamorous than my usual school-run-and-grocery-store wardrobe.

For the first time in weeks, I feel like myself. Or at least a version of myself that exists independently from motherhood, stalkers, and motorcycle clubs. The thought stays with me right up until I reach the bottom of the stairs and discover that Shadow is nowhere to be found. Instead, Chief is waiting.

He is leaning casually against the bar, one boot crossed over the other, a glass of water sitting untouched beside him. Dressed entirely in black, from his fitted T-shirt to the dark jeans disappearing into worn boots, he somehow manages to look effortlessly sexy. The sleeves stretch across powerful forearms, and the low lighting catches the silver beginning to appear at his temples, making him look unfairly handsome.

For a second, neither of us speaks. Chief’s gaze lifts, then slowly travels downward. Heat creeps into my cheeks. The look isn’t crude or lecherous. If anything, that makes it worse. There is genuine appreciation there, the kind that makes me feel beautiful rather than exposed. His eyes eventually return to mine, and a corner of his mouth lifts. “You’re going to cause trouble.”

I roll my eyes, mostly because my pulse has suddenly become impossible to ignore. “Hello to you too.”

His gaze lingers for another second, long enough to make me wonder if he’s contemplating ripping the dress right off me, and whether I’d protest—I doubt it—before he straightens. “Ready to go?”

“Where’s Shadow?”