Page 25 of Rock

She’d been sixteen. Most people would say she hadn’t been old enough to know her mind, but she’d known a lot of things that day. She’d gotten close enough to Rock to inhale his masculine scent—the predominance of leather seeping into her memory.

He’d tucked her hair behind her ear, making her shiver then…and now. He’d smiled at her and looked her in the eyes. Even though he’d been rough, a biker, already a member of his MC at eighteen, she’d also known he was intelligent and wise.

That day had launched a crush she’d held for two years until the night he’d taken her to his apartment and shown her what it meant to be loved by a real man.

He’d ruined her for other men. She hadn’t had sex again for many years because every time she’d gotten close enough to anyone to allow them to kiss her, she’d never felt the sparks she’d felt with Rock.

Had it all been an illusion? Maybe.

Yes, she’d eventually met Mike and gotten married. He’d been a math teacher at the high school where she’d taught art. He’d been kind to her and pursued her for two years before she’d finally given in and gone on a date with him. They’d become friends, and that friendship had grown into more.

Lyla had moved in with Mike the following year, and eventually, they’d gotten married. She’d been happy. Content. Things had been good until they hadn’t been able to get pregnant.

Mike had wanted to see more doctors and try expensive infertility methods, but Lyla had never been dedicated enough to spend thousands of dollars on IVF. In the end, they’d separated and divorced. He’d moved to another state to start over.

Maybe everything that had gone wrong in their relationship had been her fault. It was possible she’d harbored feelings for another man and had never been able to fully invest in her marriage.

It didn’t matter now. That was a lifetime ago.

Lyla took a deep breath and headed for the stairs. It was probably a horrible idea to have returned to Shadowridge to prepare her childhood home for sale. Feelings she preferred to leave deeply buried were rising to the surface and making her nervous.

There was no way she would seek him out. Nothing good could possibly come of it. He would be fifty-eight years old. If he was still in the MC, he was probably married. The best thing she could do would be to get this house ready for sale as fast as possible and get out of town. It would probably take a few weeks. She’d meant to stay and oversee everything, but maybe she should speed up her timetable for her own sanity.

After climbing into her rental car, she started the engine and pulled out of the driveway. Unable to resist, she drove toward the MC. The entrance looked the same as it had forty years ago. Maybe the fence had been replaced, but that was about it. There were a lot of bikes out front, but she didn’t slow down. She simply drove by, her heart racing, wondering if Rock was in the compound. Her skin tingled at the thought that she might beyards away from him, a man she hadn’t seen in decades. A man she’s never forgotten.

Gripping the steering wheel, she headed toward the motel on the edge of town. She would be staying there until she was finished dealing with the house. If it weren’t for the fact that her father really wanted her to make sure the house was in excellent condition so it could be sold at the proper market value, she’d lowball it, unload it to a house flipper tomorrow, and get the hell out of dodge.

But her father was all about making the most money on every transaction, and she had no legitimate excuse for not seeing this through. After all, she was a fifty-six-year-old retiree with nothing but time in front of her. She was in the prime of her life as far as she was concerned. After she got this house sold, she could take a long vacation somewhere, maybe hook up with a silver fox, and remind herself she was still alive.

Yep, that was an excellent idea. Why didn’t it sound more appealing than it should?

She was dragging as she hauled herself into her motel room, dropped her satchel on the bed, and flopped down next to it. For a long time, she simply lay there, unable to stop thinking about Rock. Were the memories bombarding her just because she’d returned to town?

When she finally pulled herself up to get ready for bed, she shuffled into the bathroom, turned on the light, and stared at herself in the mirror. Who was she?

Lyla crossed her arms, suddenly feeling chilled. She didn’t really know the woman staring back at her. She didn’t think she looked as old as she was. She’d always taken care of herself. She was blessed with brown hair that hadn’t turned gray yet. There were lines at the corners of her eyes, but most people had laugh lines.

She wasn’t sure her lines were from laughing, though. Had she laughed enough in life? She’d done everything that was expected of her. She’d gotten a teaching degree like her parents had encouraged. They’d compromised between art and teaching when she’d agreed to pursue the combination.

She’d worked hard for thirty years. The students and other faculty had loved her. She could have kept working, but she hadn’t wanted to. Instead, she’d spent the last few years working on her own art, though she hadn’t shared any of it with the world yet.

“You’re boring,” she told her reflection. “You’ve wasted your life away.”

She knew it wouldn’t look like that to an outsider. She had friends. She belonged to a gym. She had her book club. She had wine night with the other teachers her age. Bunco nights. Christmas parties. Vacations with friends or her parents.

“But have you lived?”

A tear came to her eye, and she quickly reached up to swipe it away. There was no need to cry or feel sorry for herself. She’d had a full life, and for fuck’s sake, she was only fifty-six. She had many more years to enjoy herself.

“Doing what, Lyla?” she asked the mirror. “Huh? What are you going to do?” With a huge sigh, she went through her nightly routine of makeup removal, teeth brushing, flossing, and combing through her hair. She still kept it past her shoulders because she liked to be able to put it up in a ponytail.

Finally, she dropped into bed. When the sun came up, hopefully, she wouldn’t feel so lost.

CHAPTER

FOUR

Even though it had been nearly forty years since Lyla had been to Shadowridge, she was surprised to find that the local grocery store hadn’t changed much. She was pretty sure the butcher was the same man who’d been there the last time she’d gone in.

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