Page 59 of The Biker and the Professor
“Um…”
“You’re at the opening, aren't you?”
“Um…”
“You’ve been there all day, haven’t you?”
“Uh…yes?”
“So, you lied to me,” he concludes.
“Not really. Baby—”
“Yeah, you did,” he cuts me off. “You told me Cookie would be taking care of the final touches, that you werestaying home, and that I was supposed to come get you after work to take you to the opening. That’s what you said, right?”
“Baby—”
“But I'm wasting my time rushing home right now because you aren’t there. Right?”
“Nero—”
He hangs up.
Yep, he’sbigmad. Granted, I probably shouldn’t have lied to him this morning, but he’s made it difficult to be honest with him about my daily plans, seeing as he’s not fine with me doinganyactivity whatsoever. Not even power-walk exercises.
Just then, the ground begins to vibrate as a rumble of motorbikes roars outside. The Heathens have arrived.
Got to give it to these bikers, you can always count on them for support.
Wincing from a slight cramp, I tenderly rub my belly as I watch them dismount their bikes and wrestle their broad shoulders and brawny arms through our doors. I spot Onyx and Kendra. They’re such a contrast. Him with his long, red hair and beard, and her with her jet-black bangs, smoky eyes and black lips.
Over the past two years, Kendra and I have grown a special bond, sort of. I’ve learned to accept her with all her flaws and she now calls me “Sis” because I’m like “thecaring sister she’s never had.”
I wish Scratch was here, too. But my favorite man-whore is off fighting for his country. For Nero and Kendra’s sake, I pray he comes home in one piece.
Biting back another small cramp, I slip into the crowd and start to mingle.
The grand opening progresses with lots of laughter, bawdy humor, fits bumps, bear hugs, and sweet treats.
Unusually so, I’m starting to feel the effects of running around with a nine-month-old baby inside me, so I retreat to a corner. It’s as if all the vitality has been sucked out of me in one swoop.
At some point, Onyx’s green eyes find me from across the room. He frowns, then promptly grabs a chair and brings it over, demanding that I sit down. “You good, Prof?”
I nod in the affirmative, but I’m not sure that I am. Something feels...off.
I don’t think he believes I’m good either, because he plants himself beside me and doesn’t leave.
Snapping his fingers at one of the assistants, he tells her, “Yo, get me a bottle of water.”
When the woman leaves and returns with the water, he twists off the cap and orders me to, “Drink.”
I take the bottle from him and drink half its contents, but it does nothing to soothe the weird feeling I’m having.I want Nero.
It’s as if he heard me yearn for him. Because just like that, he strides through the doors with his new “techie” friend/co-worker, Eric. Dressed in jeans, a tucked-in button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and work boots. His required attire for his new job. His style has changed somewhat over the last year. He’s a bit more groomed. Sharp. A sort of super-hot, not-quite-techie thing going on. His beard is still around—thank God—but shorter, close-trimmed, perpetually groomed. I’m mostly glad he’s allowed to keep his man-bun—I don’t think I could handle it if he’d had to cut it.
His serious eyes purposely sweep around the room until they land on me. They narrow, then shift up to Onyx who’s still planted beside me. A silent communication of some sort happens between them before he stalks over to me.
Inhaling another lungful of patience, I brace for another argument. But it doesn’t come. He just looks at me through unreadable blue eyes, then wordlessly rubs his hand down his face. It’s as if he needs to take a minute to process the fact that I’m alive and well.
