Talkin' Trash
Page 4

I was so stupid. Agreeing to go on the date was going to make it incredibly awkward when I turned him down for future dates and then I’d have to see him at work.
Yeah, the date idea was incredibly stupid.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
All of it had been done just so I could avoid Linc, and honestly, I wasn’t sure why I’d done it.
It’d been a split-second decision to say yes to him, and I was regretting it now.
I knew that if I didn’t have a valid excuse to give to Linc, he’d take my no as a yes and take me out to lunch. Then I’d start spending time with him, and my stupid, traitorous heart would fall in love with him all over again.
And honestly, I wasn’t sure that my heart could take any more of him leaving me behind.
I already thought about him too much as it was.
“Are you even paying attention to what I’m saying?” Tyson asked.
I frowned and focused back on the man who was clearly not on my mind and smiled—or at least I tried to.
“Yes, I’m sorry,” I apologized. “My stomach hurts.”
Tyson lifted his lip in a silent snarl. “The stomach bug that’s been going around at work?”
My heart soared. “Yes. Maybe. I think I should be going home now.”
Tyson stood up and backed away, his eyes a little wide.
I stood up before he could protest and started toward the parking lot.
It took me until I was at the door to realize that I hadn’t driven—Tyson had.
Son. Of. A. Bitch.
I contemplated turning around for a whole two point five seconds and then decided against it.
I didn’t want to be in Tyson’s presence any longer.
There was only so much I could hear about how well he had done in school, and how if I was studying more, I’d be doing better.
Hell, a broken heart was almost preferable to listening to this jerkface treat me as if I was a lesser being because I didn’t want to continue further with my schooling.
I pushed through the double doors and contemplated my next step.
It was only after I’d gotten to the parking lot that I saw the biker leaning against his bike.
I narrowed my eyes at Linc and stalked over to him.
“What are you doing here?” I growled, crossing my arms.
“Getting lunch,” he lied. “Why?”
Yeah, right.
He didn’t answer.
“You don’t like sushi,” I countered.
Linc’s lips twitched. “I’ve heard that tastes change as you age. Maybe mine have.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re full of shit.”
“Where’s your date?” he asked.
I almost told him exactly what I thought of my date, but then Linc’s mouth kicked up at the corner, causing me to feel like punching him instead of explaining anything.
This cocky, rude man was the reason I’d said yes to the date in the first place.
Now I remembered.
I looked behind me to see Tyson exiting without any to-go boxes full of his leftovers, and I had a moment of sadness realizing I wouldn’t get to finish my California Roll. That one was my favorite, and I didn’t get to have it very often because I was trying to pay for school without taking out any more loans—which wasn’t really working out all that well for me.
Though I made fairly decent money as a nurse, I was the low man on the totem pole. I was the first one to get sent home if we were slow, and the last one considered for overtime. I never got any of the good overtime days with the holiday pay because the other nurses wanted to work them to get the time and a half plus the holiday pay bonuses.
Meaning I was left either not working on those days or complaining about it to get one of those shifts—and I would not complain. I wanted my fellow nurses to like me. I wanted to have friends.
“Uhhh,” I hesitated. “Tyson, are you ready to go?”
Tyson looked like I’d just asked him a question he couldn’t answer, and I had a bad feeling about what was about to come out of his mouth next.
“I’m sorry, Conleigh. I don’t think that’s a good idea. My car’s pretty small, and you might pass that bug to me…that would be bad. I don’t deal with sickness well.”
I heard Linc’s low, slow chuckle behind me. Then he opened his mouth.
“Aren’t you in the medical field?” he asked.
How would he know that?
I frowned and looked at Linc to see his eyes full of mischief and gleaming with excitement.
Goddammit, why did he have to look so good?
“Yes,” Tyson admitted, momentarily stealing my attention from the way Linc looked.
“Then you should be used to sick people,” Linc countered. “But I’ll do you a solid this one time. I’ll take her home, and you don’t worry about ever talking to her again. Sound good?”
Tyson let out a relieved breath. “Thank you.”
I had no doubt in my mind that Tyson would be back. He’d hounded me for months until I’d finally given in. He wouldn’t give up just because Linc told him to, would he?
“Hope you feel better, Conleigh,” Tyson rushed out. “Bye.”
Then without my precious California Roll that I’d only had one bite of to help me forget about this debacle, I watched Tyson get into his stupid little smart car and practically peel out of the parking lot.
I was sure if his car had been capable of it, he would have.
I turned to Linc and felt my stomach jolt at the smile that lit his face.
He was fully bearded today—not out-of-control beard, but well-maintained I’m-sexy-as-fuck beard.
He had straight white teeth that were exposed by his smile, and the creases at the corners of those green eyes were on display.
He was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans that fit him like they were made specifically for him. They were snug in all the right places, and I could make out the shape of every bit of muscled flesh underneath of them.
The plain navy-blue t-shirt he had on did nothing to hide his magnificence, either.
He was wild—savage, really—and looked like the biker he was.
“Where’s your vest?” I blurted.
Linc’s smile fell. “Had an incident with an over-zealous fan last week, and she ripped the damn thing. I bought a new one, but I’ve got someone putting all my patches on this week.”
My mouth fell open in affront. “I was instructed when I first started at the ER to never cut the vest off of a biker,” I told him. “Isn’t that vest sacred to you?”
Linc’s lips twitched. “If it’s life and death, and you need to cut the vest, most of us won’t have a problem with it. Yes, it’s sacred to us, but we like our lives a little more than we like the vest. Do what you gotta do…unless it’s a one percenter. Then don’t touch his cut at all. In fact, you should probably work around it or let one of his MC brothers take it off him if need be. And it’s not a vest, it’s a cut.”
I hadn’t thought about that.
“Do we normally get a lot of one percenters here?” I questioned.
I hadn’t always known about bikers.
In fact, when my mother had met Steel, I’d been in awe because not only was he a biker, but he was also a cop.
But Steel was a regular guy, doing regular things.
I’d thought they were all like that TV show where they ran guns and did drugs while fucking woman after woman while their old ladies were at home raising their children.
But he’s proved to me that most bikers weren’t like that…most.
“No,” he answered my question. “Honestly, we get less one percenters around here now that we’re here than we did even five years ago. Though you’re in Kilgore, and there’s also another unofficial MC who kind of helps keep the area safe.”
“Who?” I asked, surprised to hear of an unofficial club in Kilgore, let alone an official one like Linc’s.
“They call themselves Free,” he answered, standing up. “Do they have chicken in there?”
I thought about that for a moment. “I think so.”
“What about steak?” he pushed.
“Yes,” I said. “They have steak in some of the rolls, so I’m sure they can make you a steak to eat on its own.”