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“I tried to bury myself in my job, but it didn’t work out so well.” I sighed. “I screwed this up. Whateverthiswas. My mother railed at me for getting involved with what she referred to as a tattooed heathen, and it threw me for such a loop that I reverted to destructive behavior and broke things. Pretty things.”
“Wait a second,” she said. “Let’s go back to this tattooed heathen thing. I need a visual.”
I sighed. “Dirty blond hair, scruff for days, tattoos, leather cut, and swagger. So much freakin’ swagger.”
“Leather cut?” she repeated.
“Yeah.” I paused. “He’s in an MC.”
“He’s not.”
“He is.”
“Wow,” she said.
“Wowwhat?”
“That’s so not your normal type.”
“I know.”
“You like him, don’t you?”
I sighed and finally decided to admit it out loud. “Yeah, I like him. And I treated him, well, not good, Quinn. I kicked him out after having sex with him because I didn’t want to get into my family drama.”
“And you are feeling badly because…”
“The moment he left, I thought about going after him and explaining.”
“Huh.”
“I know.”
“You have feelings for a biker…”
“It’s looking that way, yeah. He’s—God, Quinn. I don’t even know. He’s just different.”
“Well, sure. He’s a biker.”
“I don’t mean about that. Yeah, I guess it’s part of it, but it’s more. Boxer’s funny and insightful, and he doesn’t care what people think of him. It’s refreshing. And he keeps me on my toes.”
After a long pause, she said, “Boxer?”
“Yeah.”
“What MC is he in?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” I asked in confusion.
“Humor me.”
“The Blue Angels.”
She laughed like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard.
“Quinn,” I demanded. “What the hell?”
“The world is so damn small I can’t even believe it sometimes.”
