Chapter 11

Ella

Disappointment washed over me again Thursday evening as I checked my cell phone to see if I'd missed a call or text from King. It had been over forty-eight hours since he'd canceled our lunch date, with a vague excuse that had felt an awful lot like a brush-off. I'd decided to give him the benefit of the doubt though and had texted yesterday evening. I'd just sent a simple message, saying hello and that I hoped things were going well and I'd hear from him soon. As the hours since had passed without any response from him, I'd mentally lectured myself that King and I were independent adults. Just because we'd had sex didn't mean we needed to be in constant contact. He said he would call when he could, so I just needed to be patient and quit worrying about it.

But now, I was tired of making excuses for his extended silence. I was tired of being ignored. I was tired of waiting for a call or text that was clearly never going to come. Before I wrote him off for good and moved on, I called him. It rang once, before he sent my call straight to voicemail. I didn't bother leaving a message. His message – no pun intended – was clear and I was no longer able to kid myself. King was definitely ghosting me.

When Pop arrived to join us for dinner a few minutes later, I plastered a smile on my face and greeted him with a hug as always. He didn't seem to be aware of my interlude with King, for which I was profoundly grateful. I took great pains to keep the conversation directed anywhere but on his family just in case the topic of his asshole son came up. Luckily, Mia and Hunter kept Pop entertained, as always, so he didn't seem to notice that I was a little quieter than usual. I'd sent him home a big container filled with cookies – the result of a baking frenzy last night while the kids were with Clayton. It had kept me busy, and I now had two dozen muffins in the freezer, as well as enough cookies still for the kids and their friends who would no doubt be hanging out at our house over the next few days.

After Pop left, I told the kids I was getting a headache – which was true – and went up to bed early. I curled up in the middle of my mattress and started to call Camille, then cursed when I remembered that she was working a rare overnight shift at the hospital. She'd agreed to pick up a few overnights in exchange for getting the weekend off in a few weeks so we could go to Chicago to visit Kim for her birthday. So, I called Kim instead.

As soon as I heard her voice on the other end of the phone, I was immediately transported back to our teenaged years, when we shared our sagas of stupid boys and the stupid shit they did.

"So, it's official. I've been given the wham-bam-thank you, ma'am treatment."

"You mean he still hasn't called you?" I had texted both Camille and Kim on Tuesday evening via our group chat letting them know about the text from King but hadn't updated them since then. "How fucking dare he? He's a motherfucking, mangy-dicked, sorry-assed sonofabitch for leading you on like that!"

I chuckled at her insults. She could be…inventive, especially when she was all riled up. "I should have known better, Kim. I mean, what did I expect? It's not like we had a normal meet-cute that would lead to some epic love story. He's a biker I threatened at knifepoint, then hooked up with in the middle of my kitchen the very next day. It's not exactly a story you can share with the grandkids, is it?"

"Well, at least you got some good dick out of it."

"That's partly what makes me so mad. Good doesn't even begin to describe it. It was incredible, life-altering sex. It was the Oh-my-God-he-almost-made-me-black-out kind of sex. I really thought we had a connection," I confessed.

A long, drawn-out sigh came through the phone. "OK, so maybe dick that good is worth giving him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe something really did come up that's kept him so busy he hasn't even had a second to contact you. Have you tried to reach him?

"Yeah. He didn't respond to my text yesterday and he sent me straight to voice mail this afternoon. I'm not going to try again, when it's obvious he got what he wanted and isn't interested in anything more. I've just managed to recover from the trauma Dr. Douchebag caused to my pride and self-esteem. I don't need to willingly open myself up to more, especially when it might interfere with my friendship with Pop, who's also my landlord, let's not forget. It was just a bad idea from the start," I summed up with a dejected sigh.

"I get it. So, what's the plan for keeping those cobwebs cleared out? Anyone else promising on the horizon who can pound you into the mattress and not turn into Casper the Fucking Ghost the next day?" Kim was every bit as ridiculous as Camille was. That's why the two of them had gotten along so well when I'd introduced them years ago.

"No one on the horizon, promising or otherwise."

"Fuck that shit, El. Find someone to ride, pronto, preferably someone with a big, fat cock who knows how to work a clit and isn't connected to anyone you know," she ordered, as if I could just snap my fingers and make this mythical creature appear out of thin air.

"Of course, why didn't I think of that?" I asked sarcastically. "I'll get right on it."

After a few more minutes chatting about the latest and greatest happenings in her life, I hung up feeling much better about things. King clearly wasn't the man for me, but I'd gotten an excellent dicking down and my hoo-ha was officially back in business, so it wasn't all bad. Now, I just had to pull up my big-girl panties and get the hell on over it.

I woke up Friday morning determined to quit brooding about King, because fuck him. It was his loss, not mine.

Needing to boost my confidence a little, I carefully selected my favorite red, wraparound blouse, paired with a black, pencil skirt that hugged my curves, yet still looked professional. For once, my wavy hair cooperated, so I was able to leave it down instead of having to pull it into a messy bun. By the time I applied a little makeup and slid my feet into a pair of black, peep-toed pumps, I felt ready to face the day.

Once I got to the office, I resolutely set my phone to the side of my desk and deliberately put King out of my mind as I prepared for my first client to arrive. I had several meetings scheduled, which was why I was working from the office to begin with.

Near the end of the day, I drove to the building that housed Simpson Liquor Distributing to meet with Ryan Simpson to finalize the idea for his new logo. I'd met with him several times to help him with a marketing overhaul for his company, which had grown substantially over the past few years. He wanted an updated website and logo to better reflect that growth. At our last meeting, he'd approved the website design. I'd presented several ideas for his logo that day, too. Today was the day he was hopefully going to sign off on the minor changes he'd requested for the one he'd selected so this would be our last meeting unless he hired us for something else in the future.

Ryan was waiting for me as I entered the lobby of the building, greeting me with a warm smile before guiding me into the small conference room down the hall. He was a handsome man, dressed casually in dark jeans paired with a light blue button-down shirt that matched his eyes. He had the sleeves rolled up which gave me a peak at the small tattoo on his left forearm. His dark blonde hair was a little longer than the typical businessman, and the slight scruff on his jaw suggested that he'd skipped shaving this morning. He was tall and leanly muscled. Laid back, but professional, with a rugged edge that hinted that he didn't mind getting his hands dirty.

He'd asked me out at our first meeting, but I'd had to decline, citing our company's policy about personal relationships with clients. He'd understood and hadn't mentioned it again. He also hadn't let my rejection interfere in our working relationship at all, for which I was grateful.

Once we were seated, he carefully studied the printed mockup of the logo, as well as the digital design of his website's homepage that I pulled up on my laptop. It didn't take long for him to sign off giving his approval for everything with no further changes. As I powered down my laptop and placed it back into my leather computer bag, Ryan placed his hand on my arm and leaned closer.

"Now that our business is officially concluded, I'm no longer a client, correct?"

I glanced up at him, startled as much by his question as by his sudden nearness. He gave me a slow smile as he cocked a brow, waiting for my response. My lips quirked as I studied him, breathing in the smell of his cologne. It wasn't as enticing as the leather and woody cologne combination that King wore, but it was still quite nice.

"No, our contract has been fulfilled, so technically you are no longer a client," I agreed cautiously.

"So, you wouldn't be breaking any rules if you meet me for a drink tonight? We could celebrate a job well done."

"Ryan, I –"

"Come on, Ella. One drink, just to give you a little taste of the products our company supplies," he urged softly. "No obligation for more. Just one drink, and we'll get to know each other a little outside of the office."

Remembering Kim's suggestion to move on, I figured I needed to start somewhere, and Ryan was certainly an attractive man. I'd actually been disappointed that I'd had to turn him down after our first meeting six weeks ago. I knew my hesitation now stemmed from my interlude with King, which just made me angry at myself. He surely wasn't the only man in town with a dick worth playing with.

"Sure, I'd love to," I heard myself agreeing, even as I wondered in the back of my mind if it was what I really wanted to do. "I won't be able to stay long though. I'll need to get home for my kids." That wasn't true, since they were certainly old enough to fend for themselves for the evening, but I wanted to give myself an out if necessary.

"Fantastic, no problem." Ryan declared. "Let's go to The Inferno. It's not anything upscale, but the organization that owns it is one of our biggest clients. You can sample some of the liquor that your new logo will help me sell." That was fine with me. I actually preferred the corner bars where everyone knew the regulars over the fancy places anyway.

He gave me the address to plug into my GPS, and I agreed to meet him there. The fifteen-minute drive didn't do much to settle the uneasiness churning deep in my gut, but it did give me the opportunity to call Hunter to let him know that he and Mia should start eating without me if I wasn't home later. There were plenty of leftovers in the refrigerator for them, so I knew they wouldn't starve.

The parking lot was only half full, not surprising since it wasn't even quite five o'clock yet. I parked next to Ryan's truck, and he was there to open my door like a true gentleman. I smiled my thanks, then forced myself to relax as he placed his hand on the small of my back to guide me toward the bar's entrance.

My eyes widened as I noticed the logo on the sign next to the door. I was trying to convince myself that it was purely coincidence that the flaming skull on the sign looked awfully similar to the design on the back of the MC's leather cuts, but I had a sinking feeling that it wasn't. The sight of Jagger working behind the bar put a swift end to that hope. He looked surprised to see me there but gave me a head nod and a smile before he turned to talk to a man who walked up to take a seat at the bar. Ryan led me to a booth in the far corner before I could turn tail and run. Of all the damned bars in this city, I ended up at the one owned by the MC, and the man I was trying to forget.