Page 48 of Come Back To Me

“How can you be so sure?” I ask uncertain.

“Babe, please trust me, okay?”

Truth is, I trust him with my life. But I can still be mad with him. “Where are you?”

“Clubhouse. Why? You not at work?”

“Vivian gave me the week off. Apparently, I need the stress bonking out of me.”

“What?” Dean asks with a laugh.

“Never mind. I’ll be there soon. Don’t leave.”

“Your favourite person is here, you sure you want to swing by?”

“As long as she doesn’t talk to me or even look at me, I’ll be fine.”

I pull up outside the clubhouse half an hour later. I’d given Vivian my work calendar and sent a few emails before I left. I don’t like taking the time off, but I’ll savour it as best I can.

Pushing open the door, the guys are nowhere to be seen except the prospect, Legs, and a few girls behind the bar.

“Hey, Mads,” Talia shouts out from where she’s wiping glasses.

I smile, heading towards her.

I found it strange hanging out here at first, considering the difference in lifestyles, but now I don’t mind coming here so much. It’s only Red who sometimes irks me.

“What can I get you?” Talia asks.

“Tea, please. They at the table?”

She nods before walking to the small kitchen. “Yep. Been up there a while—well I say they, Prez is up there, the rest have come down in dribs and drabs, like they’ve all got jobs to do, you know?”

I’m not sure I do. “You think it’s anything to worry about?” I ask.

“Nah. Nothing those lot can’t handle. I’ve not been here long but they’re a tight group. Not like where I came from.”

I can’t help but admire the way Talia speaks. She’s so confident. I heard she moved here after her partner got too heavy with his hands. She’s the epitome of a strong female, takes no crap from anyone.

“I like the hair, it suits you.” Shaved all up the back with the long strands tied up in a bun on top. Talia looks like a rock queen in her black, ripped jeans and Harley Davidson jumper.

“I’m going for the whole,don’t fuck with me or I’ll kill youlook.”

I laugh. “Well, you’re killing it.”

She smiles appreciatively.

The kettle boils in the back, and she leaves me at the bar to make my drink. I’d happily make it myself, but that’s not how things work around here. Everyone has their place, has their job—their reason for being here.

I pull my phone out of my bag and send Dean a message letting him know I’m here. Just as I put it away, the main door to the clubhouse swings open. I crane my neck and spot a tall, long legged, smartly dressed woman taking a look around.

She wears high-waisted black trousers that hug her hips and a beautiful blouse that accentuates her breasts. Her dark hair is wrapped in loose curls that hang around her face. She looks out of place, but she carries an air of confidence about her that fills the space around us.

“Hi,” I start, lifting my hand with a timid wave as I jump down off the stool I was sat on.

Her heels clip the floor as she strides towards me. “Hi, is Dean here?”

“Oh,” is all I say, my heart twanging as his name rolls off her tongue. “He’s in a meeting—”

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