Own the Wind (Chaos #1)(54)

“She loves you, Tabby. She just doesn’t love herself. She’ll come back.”

God, I hoped he was right.

Then he muttered forebodingly and not helpfully, “Let’s just hope when she makes that call to mend fences, she isn’t in a situation where she’s f**ked one way or the other and we gotta save her ass.”

“Maybe you should stop talking,” I suggested, still speaking into his skin.

Shy was silent a moment, his arms tight around me, then he murmured, “I’ll give you that, sugar.”

I sucked in a deep breath and let it go.

Then I tipped my head back, saw him tilt his chin down and caught his eyes.

“I need coffee.”

Shy’s hand slid up my back, my neck, into my hair. He tipped my head down, I felt his lips at the top of my hair, where he whispered, “Then I better get my girl some coffee.”

I liked it like that.

He kissed my hair, his arm gave me a squeeze, I returned the favor, and he let me go.

Then he got me coffee.

And, it must be said, I liked it like that too.

Chapter Twelve

Goin’ Through the Motions

One and a half weeks later…

We were at FlatIron Mall when it happened.

And we were at FlatIron because it was far enough away, it was unlikely we’d run into anyone we knew. Not that bikers went shopping, but their babes did.

We were leaving because Shy had had enough of shopping. I knew this because after I tried on my third pair of high-heeled, kick-ass, sexy-as-all-heck boots, as much as he appreciated the show, he didn’t have a lot of patience with my indecision.

He demonstrated this by turning to the clerk and saying, “The first pair and this one, ring ’em up.” Then to me he said, “We’re done.”

I could really only afford one pair, but since Shy bought them (after a brief verbal tussle at the counter), I got two. Part of letting this go was that I bought Shy all three pairs of his new jeans and two of his four thermals, so I thought that trade-off worked. Anyway, I knew I was pushing my luck just with him agreeing to go shopping, therefore I didn’t push it further.

So just then, we were walking through the mall, Shy with his arm around my shoulders, me with my hand shoved in the back pocket of his jeans.

Things were still great, even after the Natalie debacle. She hadn’t called and she didn’t pick up any of my calls or return any of my messages, but when I expressed my concern to Shy, he just said, “Keep tellin’ you, sugar, she’ll come back to you. Just give her time to burn it out.”

I took his advice, as difficult as this was, and decided to focus on riding the happy wave that was us.

That said, Shy was getting impatient with us keeping our relationship under wraps. He’d informed me of this two days before.

“At the Compound, gotta fake it with you. Bite my tongue when I wanna say something that would expose us. Life’s too short to fake it this long, babe. We both know that shit. We’re solid. We gotta come out.”

He was right. As time wore on, it was beginning to seem less an effort to test the waters of us, which were totally solid, and more a lie. However, considering Natalie’s reaction, I wasn’t all fired up to move on to the next portion of sharing the news and what that might bring. So I’d begged for another week, just one, then I told him I’d start the process by telling Tyra.

He’d relented but he didn’t pretend to like it.

In that time, I’d been rehearsing what I was going to say to Tyra and this was what I was doing, my mind going over my speech, when she came out of a store and we ran right into her.

Literally ran right into her.

Rosalie.

Shy went solid even more than bumping into someone would make you go solid.

She had her eyes aimed the other way, she turned to us, starting, “Oh, sorry—” then she saw who we were and went solid too.

Crap.

The instant her eyes hit Shy, her face paled and my heart clenched, seeing her expression.

She was into him, big-time.

Still.

Shy breaking up with her had marked her. Even over a month later, the pain was close to the surface, right there for anyone to see. She didn’t even have it in her to hide it.

Oh God.

Her eyes moved over his face, hair, shoulders, the kick-ass necklaces he was wearing, and she also didn’t try to hide the longing that infused her gaze during this journey.

I was selective about my country music listening and one of the artists who made the cut was Jana Kramer. I’d never been dumped, but she looked exactly like what Jana’s lyrics to “Why You Wanna?” put out there.

Hideous.

Shy recovered first and muttered, “Rosalie.”

She started, and her eyes darted to me then back to Shy.

“Shy, uh… hi. Wow. You’re, um… shopping.”

She looked at me and, without knowing how to handle this, I decided to try to smile a gentle smile. I was uncertain if I managed to pull this off before she spoke.

“And you must be Tabby,” she stated, lifting a hand my way. “Shy and I are, uh… old friends.”

This was killing her but, I had to admit, she had it going on.

“Yeah,” I pulled my hand out of Shy’s pocket and took hers. “Hi.”

Totally lame, but what else did you say?