Page 17 of Rough Return

“As strangers.” She growled one of those girl-sounds and flung herself through the front door then slammed it hard enough her front windows rattled. And thank God. Because if she’d persisted much longer, he wouldn’t have been able to resist. And nothing good would come from that.

Fiona groped around on the table for her bottle of aspirin. Oh, God. It had to be there. She had to find it before her head burst. And the possibility became more real by the second.

She knocked the small white bottle onto the floor then threw herself back against her pillow in a motion so fast her brain couldn’t quite catch up and either her bedroom started spinning on its own or her eyes played a serious trick on her.

She threw an arm over her face, shielding herself from the sliver of light leaking in through the slit in her curtain. Maybe today wouldn’t be a bad day to explode into a thousand pieces. Especially after she’d somehow, once again, ended up begging Grier to take her to bed. And once again, he’d resisted. Humiliating. On so many levels.

With a groan, she rolled away from the window. Badass biker chick with a husband who wouldn’t sleep with her. It would’ve been a bad TV sitcom plot had it not been her real life. Damn him.

I want my bike back. Well, she wanted him. Guess they both were having a bad week.

She flipped onto her back. “This is stupid.” A shower would help. And her bottle of aspirin. Maybe a pair of spiked heels she could grind into Grier’s neck. Besides, wallowing in her bed would help no one. Getting up to go in and sort the “rents” the guys collected yesterday would help. The club had business to attend to, and it had been her job since she returned from college to make sure it was taken care of. Maybe it was time for a new era, a new deal, a new way to do things. Yeah. That would make her feel better.

It only took thirty minutes to get ready, another ten to get to the office inside the clubhouse and fifteen more to decide she should have worn shorts instead of jeans. She walked out of the office and looked for Jez. “What the hell? It’s like a hundred degrees in here, and it stinks like ass.”

Jez stood inside the utility closet handing tools up into the ceiling. “Air isn’t working. I’m going up as soon as Cricket takes the damned wrench.” She ended on a yell with a tap against the ladder, and a male hand reached from the ceiling.

“Why don’t you use the catwalk?” A skinny, metal plank ran the perimeter of the building with cross aisles from one side to the other that made the overhead look like an aerial city map.

“I think the problem is in the duct work. Pretty sure something got in there and died.”

“We can call a repair person, Jez.”

Jez cocked an eyebrow. “And why would we do that? Cricket and I can do the work. But it’s going to take a while for the smell to clear, so why don’t you go home and enjoy your husband?”

Fiona rolled her eyes. If only she could, but she didn’t even have an idea of where he spent last night. “He isn’t here? He, um… got up early and left, I thought to come here.” At least she finished strong.

Jez shook her head. “I haven’t seen him. Cricket slept here in one of the back rooms. Want me to ask?” Without waiting for an answer, she yelled up into the hole in the ceiling. “Cricket! You seen Grier?”

This kid couldn’t have been more than a high schooler, but he already had the hard edges of a Demon. His long, brown hair was tied back with a piece of leather, and he had a scar that ran from the corner of his eye to his jaw and along to his chin. But he had a smile he aimed at Fiona. “Spent the night in the back of the suburban on the lot.” He looked Fiona up and down, or rather down and up, since he was hanging upside down. “If I had a wife like you, you woulda spent the night screaming my name, not sleeping alone.”

Jez thumped him in the forehead. “Get back in the hole, fool.” When he disappeared, Jez pulled Fiona outside the closet. “You guys okay?”

Oh, God. What could she say to not look like her husband didn’t want her? “He… couldn’t.” The words tumbled out. She hadn’t even planned them. But the last thing she wanted to do was admit her husband found her repulsive. This was way better. “Then was too embarrassed to stay at home knowing… he let me down.”

“Oh, honey.” Jez wrapped an arm around her. “He couldn’t?”

Fiona shook her head. “Like a wet noodle.”

Jez’s brow crinkled. “Maybe it was just nerves. You know, being back after so long and jumping into the married end of the pool is kind of a big deal for some guys. Maybe it zapped his mojo.”

Zapped? And mojo? Not that would Fiona know. All she’d seen was the back of his head as he turned to get the hell away from her.

And she’d just figured a way to get back at him. “Maybe you could ask around? See how the other guys deal with… faulty equipment? Maybe have Ham or Nate talk to him?”

From above, Cricket chuckled. “I’ll do it!”

Jez grabbed a broom from the closet and poked the ceiling. “You’ll keep your mouth shut. We clear? Or I will take this broom and make a popsicle out of you.” When he didn’t answer, she jabbed the ceiling again. “We clear?”

“Yeah. I hear ya.” The shout echoed down from the hole.

“Anyway, maybe you could have the guys talk to him? I would appreciate it so much. I don’t want him to be embarrassed, and maybe if he knew it happens to all guys…” Her hangover disappeared, and her day brightened by a thousand degrees of light as she pictured half a dozen of the guys sitting around giving Grier counsel about his “problem”.

“You bet, honey. Or I could just talk to him.”

Fiona shook her head. “Thanks, Jez, but he would die if I sent a woman to talk to him. This is more a guy situation.” She could barely keep a straight face.

Jez dropped a hand on her shoulder and nodded. “You’re right. Leave it to me. I’ll put Ham and Frank on it. And I’m sure One-eye will have plenty of good advice. If any of the guys have experience with limp noodles it has to be Jim.”