Page 71 of The Biker and the Baker
Now as I watch her from the parking lot across the street, I can’t make myself move. It’s been a week since she’s seen me, yet she looks happy as a clam, laughing and chatting with a handful of her co-workers as they feast on jerk chicken and fried dumplings at the outdoor picnic tables. How? I don’t understand. How can she be in love with me but happy without me?
I straighten up when I see some dude walking up to her with two beers and handing her one before sitting down beside her. He twirls a lock of her hair and she playfully swats his hand away. When he leans in and whispers something in her ear, she smiles, encouraging him,flirting.
When the fucker throws a brief glance over his shoulder, recognition hits. Trent Garza, from Red Cage Investigations.
Those guys know everything about everyone in Denver, at all times, so there’s no way Trent doesn’t know Pia’s mine. Unless…she told him otherwise.
I rock back and dig my phone out. Pull up her number and dial. Her phone lights up on the table with my call. She picks it up, presses the button on the side to silence it, then flips it face down.
I ring her again, and again she silences the call. Trent says something to her, gesturing to the phone, and she waves her hand dismissively.
I’m not important.
I’m so motherfucking confused right now. How did we go from making life plans together to her flat-out ignoring my calls and flirting with another man?
None of this makes sense.
The same way Calvin’s story made no sense. I judged him. Thought he was being pathetic. But maybe he was just a man in love with the wrong woman. A sucker.
And now, that sucker isme.
Chapter 18
Pia
I pull intomy driveway, mildly buzzed after happy hour at Slata’s Jerk Station with a few of us from work. A much needed night out after the crazy week we’ve had.
I’m out of the car and getting my leftovers from the passenger seat when my phone rings. I wait until I’ve closed the car before I get the phone out and check the screen.
Onyx calling…
Gnawing at my bottom lip, I let it ring out. It’s been about a week since I’ve seen him. Sure, we randomly glimpse each other at the shop in the daytime, but when we’re working, we’re working, no time to stop and dawdle. On top of that, I’ve been putting in extra effort to ensure we don’t run into each other after quitting hours.
Twice he barged into the kitchen during work hours and demanded he needed to speak to me after work, and both times I’d faked a family emergency and left before closing time, leaving Eloise in charge.
I’ve never been good at break-ups. I’m a ghoster. I’m the impolite bitch who just disappears without an explanation. True, I’m a badass in almost all areas of my life, except for affairs. When it comes to intimate relationships, more specifically ending them, I’m a coward. A runaway, a hider. Voiceless and wimpy.
With Onyx, though, it’s challenging. The only way to ghost him is to give up my job, something I’m still on the fence about, so I’ve just been dodging him, hoping he’d take the hint and go back to hating me. I’d known it was a terrible idea to shit where I eat, and I’d gone ahead and did it anyway.
The ringing stops, his name disappears from the screen, and I resume the trek to my apartment.
When it promptly starts ringing again, I slip it into my coat pocket, muffling the sound.
“Answer the phone, Pia.”
Startled, I stop and snap my head up. Onyx is leaned against the railing of the steps to my apartment, his phone pressed to his ear.
Well, shit.
Shititty shit shit.
“What…what are you doing here?”
“Answerthe fucking phone.”
As stupid as it is, considering he’s right in front of me, I get my phone out and answer, “Hello.”
“Fuck. You,” he growls low, then hangs up.
