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“If you meet another rough and tough biker you’re not interested in, send him my way.”
My mouth dropped open. “You’d seriously sleep with a biker?”
“In a heartbeat.”
“Why?”
“Because those are the kind of men who make a woman feel alive.”
My skin remembered Boxer’s calloused palms, the warmth of him at my back, the feeling of being completely at his mercy.
I sighed. “I’m a damn fool.”
Peyton grasped the bottle of wine and topped off my wine glass. “Yeah, Linden. You are.”
* * *
I hugged Peyton goodbye. “Thanks for dinner. It was…illuminating.”
When I stepped back, she reached for the door. “Are you going to call him?”
“And say what? Sorry I kicked you out. Sorry I didn’t want to talk about all my issues? Sorry, can you come back and rock my world all over again?”
“Yeah, any of that would work. As long as you mean it.” Peyton smiled. “Life is messy, my dear. That’s what makes it beautiful.”
I hugged her one last time. “See you soon.”
She stood in the doorway as I headed to my car. Peyton didn’t go back inside until I pulled out of her driveway.
I used the drive back to my condo to process what she’d said. Why was I unable to let the idea of Boxer go? We’d only just started something. Something that was supposed to remain uncomplicated. I thought back to the night he took me to Pinky’s and his easy, friendly way with Freddy and how he’d treated the older couple, talking to complete strangers and buying them dinner just because he wanted to.
“He’s complicated,” I said out loud to myself. “But he pretends not to be.”
There was a depth to Boxer that he didn’t show people. He portrayed awhat you see is what you getkind of man.
What was it that Freddy had said to me? Women only expected a good time from Boxer, and he never promised anything else.
Did he want to?
“Crap,” I muttered.
I was worse than those women who didn’t see below his fun, flirty exterior. At least they were honest about what they wanted from Boxer. I’d seen underneath it, and I’d turned my back on it. I’d rejected him when maybe, just maybe, he’d been willing to show me something deeper of himself. He’d brought me food, he’d taken me on a date, and he’d let me kick him out of my condo without putting up a fight.
When I pulled into the underground parking garage of my condo building, I slid into my spot. I turned off the car but didn’t get out right away.
A tidal wave of shame for how I treated Boxer washed over me.
Before I could think too much about my actions, I pulled out my phone and dialed his number.
My heart lifted, expecting to hear his voice, teasingly calling me out for not being able to stay away from him. When I got his voicemail, I frowned in disappointment.
It beeped, but I was suddenly tongue-tied.
“Boxer, hey,” I stuttered. “It’s Linden. Can we talk? Call me.”
I hung up and then pressed my forehead to the steering wheel, feeling like an idiot. Feeling like I was in unchartered territory. Feeling like I’d lost the chance at something real.
* * *
