Own the Wind (Chaos #1)(58)

Oh my God.

Oh my God!

Tears filled my eyes and I stood frozen, staring at his lanky, tall, biker badass gorgeousness.

“Your dad just threw down and I just laid it out,” Shy stated when I didn’t speak. “Now’s the time to share, Tabby.”

“I love you,” I whispered.

“Good, but don’t say that shit to me three feet away. Get the f**k over here.”

I launched off on a foot, took one step and flew through the air.

Shy, as he’d been doing awhile, caught me.

I wrapped my limbs around him and looked down in his beautiful green eyes.

“I love you,” I whispered again.

“Good,” he whispered back, his hand sliding up my neck, into my hair. He pulled my face to his and he kissed me.

And he kept doing it until he laid me in bed.

He only stopped to make love to me.

Chapter Thirteen

Home No Longer

Three days later…

I drove into the forecourt of Ride, scanning the space. I saw Shy’s bike, Dad’s bike, Big Petey’s Trike, and Tyra’s Mustang.

“Excellent,” I muttered under my breath, irately. “The gang’s all here.”

Suffice it to say, I was in a mood.

This mood had part to do with the fact that I just got off work and, in my absence, Dr. Dickhead had not taken time to reflect on the error of his ways (not a surprise). I wasn’t his sole target anymore but he was worse than before, so it still felt the same. The problem was, now that I’d jacked them around, I felt I had to prove that I was stable, they could count on me, and part of doing that wasn’t moaning about a douchebag doctor right after I put them through the hassle and expense of an unnecessary hiring process.

This mood also had to do with the fact that Natalie still hadn’t called, even though I’d phoned her every day since she took off.

And last, this mood had to do with the fact that neither Dad nor Tyra had returned my calls, calls I’d made repeatedly, and that ticked me off.

Although Tyra and Dad were not taking my calls, Rush called me, reamed my ass for ten full minutes without letting me get a word in, saying some crap about Shy I was trying to block out so I would maybe be able to forgive him sometime in the distant future, then he hung up.

Hung up!

On me!

I’d called Big Petey and asked him why in the hell he talked to Dad before he talked to me.

“Honeybunch, this kinda shit, I know your dad, he’d wanna know,” he explained to me.

“Pete, this kinda shit, you think maybe there’s a reason he doesn’t know and the only people who can explain that reason would be Shy or me?”

“I weighed my actions, Tabby, and in the end did the right thing,” Pete replied and I knew he had his back up at my tone because, although he was a great guy, I adored him and he adored me, his ass was stubborn. Not to mention, he was a biker and not a young one. He wasn’t used to women giving him crap, thus the reason he’d been divorced (three times).

“Well, you would be wrong,” I told him before I hung up on him.

That was yesterday, two days of messages that went unreturned from Dad and Tyra, Rush’s tirade, and Natalie’s continuing grudge. And this didn’t even include the fact that Shy was trying to gloss over things were not so great at Chaos for him. Not that he’d come right out and said that, but I could tell by the look on his face and his mood.

The brothers were about as pleased as Dad upon the news spreading that there was a Shy and me, and when those men got ticked off about something, they didn’t go gab with their psychologists about it. All hell broke loose.

So by the time I got Pete on the phone, I was over it.

Now I was totally over it.

Yes, okay, Shy was a brother, I was the president’s daughter, this had ripple effects on the family.

But, to coin Shy’s phrase, I was twenty-three years old, and I really did not have to report to my Dad, stepmom, and extended motorcycle family who I was f**king.

Seriously!

So I was raring to go when, still wearing my scrubs, I stomped up the steps to the office and stormed right in.

Fortunately, I saw my little brothers Rider and Cutter weren’t there, like they often were, hanging with their mom while she worked.

This was the only good thing.

The bad thing was Tyra turning to the door with a smile then seeing it was me. Her face went blank, her mouth set, and she lifted a hand and announced, “Tabby, I was hoping you were getting the message when I didn’t pick up your calls. I need a few more days to process what you’ve done before I talk to you.”

She could not be serious.

She was talking to me like I was sixteen.

Uh-uh.

No way.

I stared at her in her cute little top and I knew she had a slim, smart but tight skirt and high heels on behind the desk that hid her. Even after years as the office manager of Ride, a garage run by bikers, she didn’t give up her professional sex-kitten look. I knew Dad (and all the other guys) totally dug it. I also knew, staring at her right then, that was a look I had once adopted. Another phase, the phase I was in when I was with Jason. A phase that was Tyra, not me.

I walked fully in, closing the door behind me, stopped a couple feet from her desk, and repeated, “You need a few more days to process what I’ve done?”