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One extra-large iced brown sugar oat milk latte later, Brenna sat at a café table adjacent to the front window as instructed. As she sipped her beverage, her mind wandered to the same place it’d been stuck since last night.
She cringed, recalling how she’d practically sprinted to the guest room after Curly, Spec, and Liv left. She’d pled exhaustion but hadn’t fallen asleep until long past midnight. In the span of a few hours, her life had gone from dull and slightly sad to wholly fucked.
How could she have spent the past two years with a man without knowing who he really was? They went to sleep together, woke up together, and ate together. They shared a home, friends, and a life. She hadn’t broken up with Oliver because he had a gambling addiction and owed an MC a shocking sum of money. She hadn’t ended their relationship because he was a monster who’d hurt her to save his ass. No, she’d cut things off because their connection had gone stale. They lacked passion. There wasn’t any rip-your-clothes-off desire or intense need to have each other no matter where they were. They’d drifted to a place where they acted like roommates or buddies. After she’d ended it, a mutual friend confessed to sleeping with him while he and Brenna had been engaged. She’d also found out about a few others, and by that point, she felt relief at being out of the broken relationship.
Staid, predictable, boring. Those were the words that came to mind when she thought of their sex life toward the end. Hell, they’d never had the kind of hot-as-Hades connection she yearned for, but it’d at least been on the hotter side of warm.
She couldn’t take it anymore after months of lukewarm, bordering on chilly nights. Maybe consuming hunger for another person only happened in books and movies, but she was still too young to throw in the towel and commit to a passionless relationship.
Right?
What the hell did she know about anything? It turned out she was too dumb to realize she’d agreed to marry a man who’d rather she get assaulted by bikers than pay his debts.
Crap.
And now she was living with one of those bikers as they enacted a revenge plot on Oliver. And said biker happened to be one of the sexiest men she’d ever laid eyes on. Plus, he had a cute baby.
If she hadn’t yelped from the genuine pain when she’d spilled that hot coffee on herself earlier, she’d have been convinced this was all a fever dream.
God knew what Lock thought of her, especially since she’d been too chicken to stick around and find out. At five this morning, she’d fled from his house, determined to leave without talking to him. The prospect followed her to her home, where she’d showered, dressed, and packed enough to last a few days before beginning her disastrous workday.
“Excuse me, Brenna?”
Brenna blinked and gazed up into the smiling face of a woman maybe ten years her senior. Her client wore distressed denim shorts and a black ribbed tank with a dog rescue logo. Her brown hair was pulled up in a long ponytail, and her face appeared free of makeup.
“Brenna?” A frown of doubt crossed the woman’s face.
“Yes, sorry.” Brenna stood and extended a hand, which the woman shook it. “I was lost in thought. I’m Brenna, and you must be Brooke?”
“Yes, that’s me,” she said with a warm smile.
“Please sit.” Brenna indicated the vacant seat across from her.
“Thank you.” Brooke sat and placed her icy drink on the table. “I’m so excited to get started. Wait—” She peered out the window. “Is that Four?” she asked of the prospect staring at them from astride his bike in the parking lot.
Frowning, Brenna followed her gaze. “You know him?”
“You know him?” Brooke’s forehead creased as she bounced her attention between Four and Brenna.
“Kinda.”
They looked at each other and then burst out laughing.
“Let’s try this again,” Brooke said. “I’m Brooke, your new client and ol’… uh, girlfriend of Curly, the president of the Hell’s Handlers MC. That’s how I know Four. Are you dating him?”
Brenna snorted. “Oh God, no. He’s way too young for me. He’s my, um, well…” For crying out loud, how the hell was she supposed to explain this?
“Ohhh.” Brooke’s eyes widened. “Brenna.” She slapped a palm to her forehead. “That’s not the most common name. I can’t believe I didn’t put two and two together. You’re the woman from last night.”
Okay, she guessed she didn’t have to explain. “That’s me,” she said with a sheepish smile.
“Well, shit. I can’t believe you’re working today with everything you’re going through.”
Canceling had crossed her mind, but she’d needed the distraction. “Yeah, I kinda need something to think about besides my ruined personal life.”
“Okay then, let’s talk business, and if you’re feeling up to it later, we can chat about other things.”
“All right.” With a nod, Brenna swiped her iPad open and pulled up her favorite note-taking application. “You said on the phone you’re creating a women’s shelter, correct?”
