Wild Fire (Chaos #6.5)(78)

He’d pulled his hand from his chick’s to wrap his arm around her waist.

“Four,” he whispered in her ear, giving her waist a squeeze, and feeling really good that they were finally going to get the opportunity to get to know each other better.

“Yeah,” she replied, returning that squeeze to his shoulders, and he knew she felt the same way. “Four.”

She bopped back, her dude claimed her, Jag’s chick claimed him, and they were both tugged in opposite directions But they kept eye contact over their shoulders as they walked away. And right before she disappeared from sight, she shot him a devil’s horns, and the way she did was funny, cute and cool, so it was also totally hot.

Needless to say, Jag’s chick was not happy about this even a little bit.

So, needless to say, around four, she pitched one helluva fit and he had to deal with her ass.

This meant he missed the meeting with A. By the time he got back to the area where they met, she was long gone.

And he was so pissed that she was, he broke shit off with his chick.

He never saw that girl again.

As for A, it went so long, he thought he’d lost her forever.

And thinking that, he felt it.

Deep.





It was four years before Jag saw her again.

She was in a car.

He was on his bike.

They were stopped at a stoplight.

He looked over to her, she looked at him, and when she recognized him past his shades and his longer hair and his Chaos Motorcycle Club cut, she grinned.

He frowned.

Because there she was, driving down Broadway like years hadn’t passed.

Where the fuck had she been?

No notes?

No sightings?

Nothing?

She made hand motions and he jerked up his chin because, fuck yes, he was gonna follow her.

And he did.

To the parking lot at the Albertson’s by the Blue Bonnet.

They parked.

He swung off his bike.

She got out of her car.

Her hair was longer too, she was thinner, but somehow with that, her ass was rounder, her tits bigger.

And she had more tats.

He gave himself seconds to take her in, and in all that, it wasn’t lost on him that she was even fucking prettier.

And then, no other way to describe it, he bore down on her.

“What the fuck, A?” he growled when he was deep in her space.

She pressed back to her car, but he just moved into the opening she created when she did.

Through all this, she stared up at him, demanding, “What the fuck, what, J?”

“You’ve been gone for fucking years,” he pointed out.

Her head ticked. “Yeah, I went to college out east.”

Well.

Shit.

But.

Still.

“And you didn’t leave me a goddamn note?”

She blinked.

“You were gone, like, every fuckin’ day for the last four fuckin’ years so you couldn’t leave me a note?” he pushed it.

“Well, no, but mostly, yeah, ’cause Dad had two kids in college, both out of state, we’re not rolling in it so I couldn’t exactly fly home every weekend. And anyway, J, you stood me up at Taste.”

And again.

Shit.

But still.

“My chick got up in my shit, I had to deal with her,” Jag explained. “We were late, you were gone.”

“Yeah, well, my guy got up in mine too. He wasn’t a big fan of me hugging on a hot dude in front of him. We had words. I told him he could relax and deal or he could take a hike. He wasn’t relaxed, but he was ready to deal, and then you didn’t show. After that, I had to put up with him being smug, which was worse.”

Hang on a second.

She thought he was hot?

“So, that’s the only excuse you have?” she pressed. “That your girl threw a tantrum and that’s why you stood me up?”

That was twice she’d used those words.

Stood her up.

But they’d both been on dates.

“A, I—” he began.

She didn’t let him get any further.

“So no, J, I didn’t leave you a note because you blew me off and I’m not feeling this.” She motioned between them, but explained it anyway, “I see you for the first time in years, and you get all up in my face because I didn’t keep connected after you didn’t connect with me and I was just off, living my life.”

“You gotta know I’d never leave you hanging unless something came up I couldn’t avoid,” he told her.

“I don’t know that because that’s what you did. You left me hanging.”

“My chick was throwing a hissy fit.”

She shrugged. “So walk away.”

“If you were throwing a hissy fit, would you want me to walk away from you?”

“Brother, I would not ever throw a stupid hissy fit.”

She said these words like they were gospel and her face registered nothing but disgust at not only the idea of chicks who did, but that he’d think she would.

Jag found that interesting.

As well as promising.

But again.

Still.

“So you’re telling me it wasn’t a four-year long hissy fit that was the reason I got no fuckin’ note after that happened?” he demanded.