Page 12 of The Girl He Loves

Chapter 5

Friday

Call me chicken,but with the way my day was going, I didn’t want to stick around and get my ass handed to me by a biker.

Wincing but pushing back the pain, I spring up and scan the crowd. Sure enough, Josie’s running interference. She’s in front of a group of bikers with long hair and nothing but leather clothes kept together with chains. A hulk-sized one with tattoos running up both arms is pointing a finger at me like a person might point a knife. I could be exaggerating that, but I’m not mistaking the angry look on his face. Dax has jumped into the conversation with Josie and the bikers.

Because I landed outside the stanchions, I can easily be absorbed into the crowd. I pull myself up and eye my escape route, the quickest path to my van, which now feels like I’ve parked it one million miles away.

Looking back at the restaurant crowd, and I see Jayne rushing toward me, my purse in her hand. Behind her, Dax’s friends are picking up the bikes I knocked over.

“Are you okay?” she asks as she presses my purse into my chest, covering my see-through shirt and booby area.

Because, yeah, I’d worn a T-shirt bra, and now everyone has been gifted with x-ray vision and can see through my shirt.

“Other than I want to die from mortification? Yeah, I guess so.”

“I assumed you wouldn’t want to stay.”

Over her shoulder, Dax moves away from the bikers and toward me. He gives me a thumbs up.

The long-haired biker yells across the parking-lot-turned-restaurant to me, “Don’t you worry about anything, pretty lady, and I hope they figure out why you have those muscle spasms.”

I glance from Jayne to the guy then smile and do a small wave because I don’t know what to say.

Jayne shakes her head and says under her breath, “It’s anyone’s guess what Josie told him.”

I say to Jayne, “If there’s damages, will you let me know?”

She shakes her head. “No, because you’ve got enough on your plate.”

“Heather?” Dax says, having come up behind Jayne.

Jayne’s eyes go big.

I fake smile and rapid blink to keep from making eye contact. “Dax, this is my friend Jayne. Jayne, this is Dax. We went to college together.”

Jayne swivels and goes into her work-the-customer mode.

“Dax, it’s lovely to meet you.” She puts my purse behind her back.

I take it and attempt to slip away. More like limp away. My hip and leg throb, and putting weight on them is excruciating. With my day, I wouldn’t be surprised if I broke something.

“Heather,” Dax calls.

But I keep going, putting the restaurant behind me and doing my best to blend into the biker crowd that fills the streets. Thankfully, a girl covered in beer doesn’t stand out in this crowd.

I push through a hodgepodge of motorcycle buffs dressed in ensembles that would make the men of Queer Eye faint in horror.

As I make my way toward my minivan and away from the restaurant, I begin to breathe easier, believing I’m home free. From seemingly nowhere—yes, I kept checking over my shoulder—Dax appears and pulls me to a stop by tugging at my elbow.

I yelp in pain as the movement pulls me sideways and requires me to put more weight on my injured side. He releases my elbow with a flurry of apologies. I shift and hop on my uninjured leg, giving my hurt side a break.

“I was going to ask if you’re okay, but I can see that you aren’t.” He frowns down at me.

People swarm around us. We’re like two fish blocking the flow of a stream as we’ve stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

“I’m fine. Really. What was it you used to say when one of the other players got hurt on the field? Just rub some dirt on it? That’s what I’ll do. It’ll be fine.” I try not to wince as throbbing aches course through me.

---