Page 10 of Big Bossy Biker

I almost do say no. I’m not in the mood for crowds or loud music or anything, really. But then again, maybe getting out will be good for me. Maybe a few drinks will help me forget about Noah and how much I’m already dreading him leaving.

Fiona: Fine. But you’re buying the first round.

Jeannie: Deal. And wear something hot. We’re not wallflowers tonight.

I roll my eyes but smile. Jeannie always knows how to pull me out of a funk, even when I don’t want to be pulled. Maybe tonight’s exactly what I need.

After I text Jeannie back, I set my phone down, staring at it like maybe it’ll give me some kind of answer, some kind of clue about what I’m supposed to do next. But of course, it doesn’t. It just sits there, silent and useless, while my brain spins a hundred miles an hour.

Climbing out of bed, I make my way downstairs. I look around my tiny house. The house I grew up in. The house my mom died in. The house I wish I could sell off and leave behind with all of the painful memories it holds.

This place isn’t much, but for now, it’s mine, and right now, it’s a mess. Dishes piled up in the sink, laundry spilling out of the basket in the corner, and dust collecting on just about every surface.

Perfect. Something to keep my hands busy, something to keep me from thinking about him.

I grab a sponge and start scrubbing the kitchen counter, putting all my energy into making it spotless. I scrub and wipe and rinse, but every time I get into a rhythm, Noah pops back into my head. His hands, his mouth, the way he made me feel in that break room. It’s like no matter how hard I try to push him out of my mind, he’s right there, front and center.

I mutter under my breath, “You’re not thinking about him, Fiona. You’re cleaning. That’s it.”

But it’s a lie. I’m definitely thinking about him. All damn day, I’ve been thinking about him.

I move on to the living room, picking up random clutter and dusting off the shelves. Each motion is mechanical, but my mind is still stuck on Noah. The way he looked at me like I was the only woman in the world. The way he touched me, like he knew exactly what I needed without me even saying a word.

God,, it’s pathetic how much I’m hooked on him after just one night. I barely know the guy, but I can’t stop myself from replaying every second we spent together.

And then, of course, there’s the little voice in the back of my head reminding me that he’s only here for a few more days. That as soon as his bike’s fixed, he’ll be gone. Back on the road. And I’ll just be—what? Another girl in another town? Just someone he hooked up with to pass the time?

I throw a pile of laundry onto the couch and collapse next to it, groaning into a pillow. This is stupid. I’m being stupid. I knew going into this that it wasn’t going to be anything serious. I’m just some small-town girl, and Noah’s…well, Noah’s something else entirely. He’s free in a way I’ve never been.

But damn it, I can’t help how I feel.

I spend the rest of the day bouncing between cleaning and thinking about Noah, and every time I catch myself daydreaming, I force myself to focus on whatever task’s in front of me. Cleaning the bathroom, sweeping the floors, folding laundry—it doesn’t matter. As long as it keeps my hands busy, I figure maybe, just maybe, it’ll keep my heart in check, too.

By the time 8 PM rolls around, my house is spotless, and I’m standing in front of the mirror, staring at myself and wondering why the hell I’m getting so dressed up for a night out. I mean, it’s just Jeannie and me hitting the bar. I don’t need to look good. But here I am, fussing with my hair, debating whether I should put on more makeup, wondering if Noah’s going to somehow run into me while we’re out.

Because if I’m being honest with myself, I’m kind of hoping he will.

I shake my head at my reflection. “Get a grip, Fiona. You’re just going to the bar with your friend. That’s it.”

But deep down, I know that’s not it. Deep down, I know I’m dressing up because I want to feel good. I want to feel like thewoman Noah made me feel like last night. And if I can’t have him tonight, at least I can pretend for a few hours that I’m not just some ordinary girl in a nothing town.

I throw on my favorite jeans and a low-cut top, the one that makes me feel a little braver than I actually am, and I swipe on a final layer of lipstick. It’s not much, but it’ll do.

By the time Jeannie picks me up, I’ve managed to talk myself out of the worst of my bad mood. I’m wearing my tightest jeans and a low-cut top, and I even bothered to do my hair for once. If I’m going to be miserable, I might as well look good doing it.

When we get to the bar, it’s already packed. It’s one of those places where everyone knows everyone, and the minute I step inside, I feel like half the town’s eyes are on me. That’s the downside of growing up in a small place like Cherrywood Village—everyone knows your business, whether you want them to or not.

But tonight, I don’t care. I’m here to forget about all that. I follow Jeannie to the bar, and she orders us two shots of tequila to start. We clink glasses, and I throw mine back, wincing as the alcohol burns its way down.

“Now we’re talking,” Jeannie says, grinning at me. “Let’s find us some trouble.”

As the drinks start flowing, I can’t help but spill my guts to Jeannie and by the time we’re on our third round, I’ve told her everything about Noah. Wasn’t I supposed to be pretending not to think about him?

We’re about halfway through our fourth drink when I spot them—Joy Marcer and newlywed Erica Marcer, the talks of the town lately. Joy’s dad is the head firefighter, now married to Erica, who is well a bit of a mystery. She left Cherrywood Villagewhen we were teenagers, and no one really heard from her again until she showed back up a year or two ago. They’ve both been the top of the gossip considering their my age and both now in relationships with men way older than them. It doesn’t help that both Theo and Steven were prime real estate for the women in our town.

Jeannie sees them too and gives me a nudge. “Hey, look who it is. The Marcer girls. Let’s go say hi.”

I hesitate for a second, but before I can say anything, Jeannie’s already making her way over to them. I follow her, because what the hell else am I going to do?

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