Misadventures with a Biker

by Scott Hildreth

  Brimming with emotion, I strolled past him without so much as acknowledging his presence. After making a cup of coffee, I sat in my office and stared at the door. Knowing he was fifty feet from where I was sitting—but that I couldn’t even bring myself to talk to him—ground against my every nerve.

  I picked up my phone’s receiver and dialed Kate’s extension.

  “Good morning,” she said upon answering.

  “Get in here.”

  “Be right there.”

  The receiver no more than fell into the cradle, and Kate ducked through the door. “Spent the weekend not answering calls and texts. I’m guessing it was a good one?”

  “Shut the door.”

  She shut the door and took a seat on the other side of my desk. “Sunglasses are a nice touch. Were you up all night with you know who?”

  I removed them and tossed them into my purse.

  “Oh, no,” she said. “What happened?”

  I pressed my fingertips against the skin beneath my eyes. “Is it that bad?”

  She leaned against the edge of my desk and looked me over. “You look like you spent the entire weekend crying.”

  “That’s because I spent the entire weekend crying.”

  She relaxed in her chair. “Start at the beginning.”

  “The beginning?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I think it must have started when my parents were killed. Not having them around to give reassurances left me hoping to find it from men. I’ve been so eager to get someone to pat me on the back that I’ve made some ridiculously bad decisions.”

  “Not that beginning,” she said. “On Friday. What happened?”

  “Oh, God.” I rolled my eyes. “It was awful.”

  “Details, dear. Details.”

  “We went to the house, and he was showing me the floor. When he stood up, he pinned me to the wall and said, ‘I want you to decide if you want me to fuck you or not. I can’t decide for you.’ It was right at the same time the men showed up to look the place over. They rang the doorbell—”

  “Wait. He pinned you to the wall? Like, explain that, would you?”

  “Pinned me to the wall, Kate. He pressed his chest against mine, forcing me against the wall. Our lips were basically touching. Basically.”

  “Did he kiss you?”

  “No. He just said the you-have-to-decide thing.”

  “Okay.” She wagged her brows. “Continue.”

  “They came and looked the place over, and he was eyeing me the entire time. Saying little things, and—”

  “What kind of little things?”

  “Jeez, Kate, I don’t know. Things. Little sexual things. And he was looking at me with those eyes. His eyes.” I leaned forward. “Have you spent any time looking at his eyes?”

  She nodded in agreement. “He’s got good eyes, that’s for sure.”

  “Well, he kept looking at me. Saying things. I’m waiting for his two friends to leave, knowing when they do that he’s going to bend me over that island in the kitchen and have his way with me. He brought wine, Kate. He put a bottle of wine in that worn-out little leather messenger bag he carries.”

  “At what point did it go to hell?” she asked. “Was the sex bad?”

  “There was no sex.”

  “What?” she screeched. “How in the world?”

  “When they left, he went into the kitchen, grabbed the wine, and pinned me to the wall again. He told me I had a nice ass, nice tits, and a pretty face, but that my pussy might be too pretty to fuck.”

  Her eyes thinned to slits. “What. Does. That. Even. Mean?”

  “I know, right? I have no idea.”

  “He said you’ve got a cooch too cute to copulate.” She laughed. “Then what did he do?”

  “Basically, he shoved me out of his way and stomped out to the car.”

  “That’s it?” she snapped back. “No nothing?”

  “Nope.”

  “What about Saturday?”

  “I spent the weekend watching rom-coms on Netflix and crying. He took his shirt off, by the way. That was interesting.”

  “Wait. What? Took his shirt off? When?”

  “Before he pinned me to the wall.”

  “Just ripped off his shirt and smashed you to the wall?”

  “Basically, yeah.”

  “Holy crap,” she gasped. “Then, nothing?”

  “He’s so sexy it makes me sick,” I said. “I can’t do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “Spend every waking hour wanting him. I don’t know what it is about him, but I want him so bad it hurts.”

  She waved her hand in the direction of his desk. “Go tell him you’ve got an ugly twat. Maybe he’ll reconsider.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  “It was kind of funny.” She brushed the wrinkles from her dress. “What did he look like without his shirt on?”

  “What do you think?” I asked. “He looked like someone ought to be chiseling a statue of his likeness and placing it in Naples Park.”

  “I want this to work,” she said.

  “You want what to work?”

  “This. You. Him. This.”

  I glared. “You little turd. This is your fault. You basically set me up.”

  She cowered in her seat, but it was only an act. “I may have planted a seed or two,” she admitted. “A few in his head, a few in yours.”

  I shook my head in disgust. “Well, your little plan didn’t work.”

  “He’s perfect for you,” she said. “He’s a sexual deviant, and so are you. He’s loyal, and so are you. He’s alpha, and you’re subservient.”

  “I’m not subservient,” I snapped. “I can’t believe you said that.”

  She stood, walked around the corner of my desk, and got on my computer. After a few seconds of typing, she gestured to the screen. “Read it.”

  sub·​ser·​vi·​ent | səb-ˈsər-vē-ənt – adjective – willing and eager to obey another unquestioningly – “She was subservient to her partner.”

  “Maybe a little bit,” I said. “But it doesn’t matter. It’s never going to work.”

  “A little bit.” She laughed. “You define the term.”

  “I do not.”

  “If he walked in here right now and said, ‘Bend over that desk. I want to fuck you from behind,’ or whatever, you’d do it.”

  “I would not,” I said adamantly. “One, I wouldn’t have sex in my office. Two, he couldn’t just order me around like that.”

  “Yes, he could.”

  “Maybe a little, but not in here. My office is my sanctuary. This place is off-limits.”

  “Well, my point was that you two are perfect for each other. I hate to admit it, but that’s the reason I hired him. Not the entire reason, but it was a big part of it.”

  I was flattered and pissed off all at the same time. “Are you kidding me?” I asked, my tone laced with aggravation. “You hired him because you thought—”

  “I hired him because I’m tired of seeing you in pain. You deserve so much better than you’ve received. I hired him because he was willing, qualified, and because he said he’d stay long-term. My hope was that you two would hit it off. After I figured out who he was and what he stood for, I decided I had to put you two together.”

  “What does he stand for?” I asked.

  “He’s a good man, and he stands up for women at any and all costs.”

  “I wish he wanted me as much as I want him.”

  “Let me see if I can fix this,” she said.

  “Leave it alone,” I insisted. “I only want him if he wants me. If he’s doing you a favor, it’s just not the same.”

  She stood and gestured toward my purse. “Put your sunglasses on, dear. You look like hell.”

  My eyes were swollen, my heart hurt, and the only man who came within inches of wanting me in the past year was a disastrous setup from a friend and coworker who felt sorry for me.

  I not only
looked like hell, I felt like it, too.

  “I’ll leave them off,” I said. “I deserve this.”

  “You do not,” she insisted. “You deserve the best.”

  I might have deserved it, but I had my doubts I’d ever receive it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Devin

  Kate and I were seated at a coffee shop having a caffeinated beverage and a light dinner to celebrate my two-week anniversary with the company.

  “I like this place a latte,” she said.

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Me too.”

  Kate was exactly what I needed in a friend. She kept conversations interesting, didn’t muddy up our friendship waters with drama, and always wore a smile. In the past, my friends had been limited to men who were constantly in a state of competition with one another. Trying to go faster, outdrink, or earn more money than the man next to them. It was a breath of fresh air to have someone who wanted nothing more than to enjoy my company.

  “So, do you have any idea what’s wrong with Teddi lately?” She sipped her latte. “Every time I’ve seen her this week, she’s been really short with me.”

  Since I denied her sexual requests, Teddi hadn’t spoken more than two words to me. I didn’t know her well enough to decide if her patterns of coming and going were normal, but short of a few silent trips past me to get something from her desk, she’d avoided me like the plague.

  I hated that things had changed between us. Teddi didn’t know it, but I was saving her from a mountain of grief. She could be pissed off all she wanted, but I wasn’t going to be a selfish prick and ruin her image of me all for a few nights of sex.

  “Probably stressed out about the house,” I replied.

  “I suppose that could be it,” she said, seeming far from convinced.

  I decided to change the subject. “The house should be done by the end of next week, by the way.”

  “Oh, wow. Those guys work fast.”

  “They’d be a lot faster if I didn’t have them do a little extra work.”

  She lowered her cup to the table and picked up her biscotti. She looked it over as if trying to decide where to sink her teeth. “You don’t think Teddi’s attitude could have something to do with the fact that you wouldn’t have sex with her, do you?”

  I choked on my espresso. A teary-eyed coughing fit followed. When I caught my breath, I looked at her with eyes of disbelief. “She told you?”

  She dunked her biscotti in her coffee and nodded eagerly. “She’s devastated.”

  “Devastated?”

  “Absolutely crushed,” she said over a mouthful of biscotti. “Things like that have a profound effect on women.”

  “Believe me, I had no intention of causing her that kind of grief. My experience in dealing with women’s emotions is nil. I had no idea—”

  “This is why we’re friends.” She pointed the uneven tip of her biscotti at me. “I can teach you such things.”

  “Why would not having sex be so devastating?” I asked. “It doesn’t make sense that she’s pissed about something so stupid.”

  “I doubt she saw it as stupid.”

  “We were going to fuck,” I said dismissively. “We didn’t. It wasn’t a big deal.”

  “The last guy…” She paused and looked me over. “Can I tell you about the last guy she saw without you telling her I told you?”

  “Sure.”

  “The last guy she saw was over a year ago. They were serious. Living together and everything. She heard he was having sex with another woman. She asked him. He denied it. Then, someone hinted that there was another. She asked him again, and he denied it. It went on for a long time. The accusations and the denials. Then, one day, she caught him.”

  “How?”

  “He worked for us.” A look of disgust washed over her. She shook her head. “This is awful. She met a woman at one of his listings because he was in Orlando at some meeting, or training, or whatever. Anyway, this client started telling Teddi how she was seeing this guy. She was buying this house, and he was going to move in with her. It ended up the guy this client was seeing was the same guy Teddi was living with. It messed her up pretty bad.”

  “Guy sounds like a real shithead,” I said.

  “There’s a lot more to it than that.”

  “More than him being a shithead?”

  “No,” she said. “More to the story.”

  “Are you going to tell it?”

  She seemed reluctant but continued nonetheless. “She’d given him almost every penny she saved to help finance some real estate thing. It was a lot of money. The investment scheme was basically a scam. It ended up that was really the only reason he was with her. For her money. She lost it all. Every cent. After that, she swore off guys, basically.”

  “Holy shit. Where’s this guy now? In prison?”

  “No. She didn’t prosecute him. She was too embarrassed. He’s working for another real estate agency here in town.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “I wish I was.”

  “That’s awful.” I exhaled a long breath. “Both parts to the story.”

  “Now you know why it was a big deal to her. If she made up her mind to have sex with you, she reached a point she’d overcome everything with the guy who screwed her over. It was probably a big letdown. Then she was left wondering if she made the right decision or if all guys are turds.”

  “I’m not a turd.”

  “I’m not saying you are. I’m just kind of thinking out loud. Trying to decide what she’s thinking.”

  “The asshole who took her money. He’s here? In Naples?”

  “He is.”

  “What’s his name?”

  She shook her head. “Sorry. I’m not telling you that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because. I don’t want you to go back to prison any more than you want to be there.”

  I wasn’t going to risk going to prison over it. I just wanted to know. I waved it off. “I’m just curious. No big deal.”

  She gnawed on her biscotti like a starving hamster. Halfway through it, she appeared to have a revelation. “Oh crap. I just remembered something.”

  I glanced at my watch. “Do you have to go?”

  “No. It was about that other thing we talked about.”

  “What other thing?”

  “About you being a sexual misfit. Remember, I told you I was going to find someone who qualified? Someone who would match your sexual personality?”

  “Oh. Yeah.” I finished my espresso in one gulp. “No such luck, huh?”

  “Not really,” she said. “Just one person. I doubt you’ll be interested.”

  “Is she like me?”

  “Probably more of a misfit, really.”

  It sounded like a match made in heaven. My eyes widened with wonder. “Oh, really?”

  “Yeah,” she said with a laugh. “I’m sure she’d teach you a thing or two.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “I don’t,” she said matter-of-factly.

  I wished things with Teddi were different. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Finding the right person would be both rewarding and painful. Being in a relationship while working with Teddi would do nothing but cause her pain, and that wasn’t something I wanted to do.

  “Who is it?” I asked out of sheer curiosity.

  She smiled. “Teddi.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Teddi

  I rummaged through the documents scattered across my desk. Immersed in my efforts to find a contract, I’d become immune to my surroundings. The sound of someone clearing their throat snatched me from my focused state.

  Cringing, I looked up.

  A few feet from my desk, Devin stood with his hands in his pockets. “Got a minute?”

  I’d stopped in just for a moment, hoping I could retrieve the documents without being cornered. I couldn’t have been so lucky. Especially when it came to encountering Devin. I’d managed to avoid him for ne
arly a week. Merely seeing him brought me grief.

  “I need to run,” I replied, trying to sound like I was in a hurry. “Can you get with Kate on whatever it is you need?”

  “I can’t.”

  I grabbed my purse. “I’m sorry. I’ve got—”

  He gave me a soft look. “I’m sorry.”

  I paused. “About what?”

  “The other night.”

  What happened between the two of us was simple. I was attracted to him. I opened up, sexually. I offered myself to him. He rejected me. That should have been the end of it. Oddly, it seemed to be only the beginning.

  My desire to be with him had increased exponentially since the rejection. I’d never been so attracted to anyone in my life. To have him reject me was crushing. An apology did nothing to change how I felt. I wanted him to want me as much as I wanted him.

  I adjusted my shoulder strap. “Okay.”

  “Is there a way we can start over?”

  Devin had no desire to be with me, even if only for a one-time sexual encounter. Whenever I saw him, heard his voice, or Kate mentioned him, it was a reminder of that. “Starting over” meant that he wanted to patch things up between us. He’d expect me to stop by his workstation and chat. Have lunch with him and Kate. An after-work drink. Emotionally, I wasn’t ready. Maybe I would be one day, but I wasn’t there yet.

  “I don’t think we need to start over,” I said, trying to walk past him. “I’m sorry. I really need to get—”

  “Stop.” He reached for my waist. “Please.”

  I wanted to scream. To tell him to get his hands off me. Instead, I stood statue-still and said nothing. As I savored the feeling of having him touch me, I closed my eyes.

  “I wish I could rewind the clock and do things differently,” he said. “But I can’t.”

  He was pouring salt on my wounds. To hear that everything was a mistake would only make matters worse. I needed to stop him from continuing. I opened my eyes. Before I spoke, he continued.

  “I want to do this,” he said.

  My mind swam in a sea of confusion. I blinked a few times and shook my head, hoping to clear it of the fog.