Still, she couldn’t shake the image of him—tall, powerful, commanding even without showing his face. The contrast between the intimidating black helmet and the gentle way he’d offered his arm was... intriguing.
Her landline rang, jarring her from thoughts of her mysterious rescuer. Only a handful of people had that number. Her parents would have been the main suspects—if they had still been alive.
Morgan hesitated, turning toward the old-fashioned rotary phone on her dresser. It had once belonged to her mother, who’d adored vintage films—the kind with dramatic heroines, sweeping orchestras, and long cigarette holders no one actually used.
After her mother had passed, Morgan inherited not one, but three of the old fashioned rotary phones. They each had a special place in her home, as she couldn’t bring herself to part with them.
So she paid the monthly landline fee, used them occasionally to order pizza, and told herself it was worth it to keep a little piece of her mother’s world alive.
She picked up the ringing receiver. “Hello?”
“So you’re home.” Jason’s voice, slightly slurred. He’d obviously been drinking. “That was quite a performance tonight.”
She gripped the receiver tighter. “I’m not having this conversation.”
“You embarrassed me in front of an important client.”
“You embarrassed yourself when you decided to cheat.” Morgan glanced towards the front door that she couldn’t see from her bed, suddenly very aware of the flimsy chain that was the only thing preventing him from using his key that he’d talked her into giving him just two months ago. “Don’t call here again.”
“We need to talk about this like... like adults, Morgan.” He stumbled over his words, “I was handling a client. It was just... just business.”
“Is that what you call it? Because from where I was standing, it looked an awful lot like you were seconds away from having your tongue down her throat.”
A tense silence followed before he switched tactics. “That biker friend of yours—you know him?”
Something cold slithered down Morgan’s spine. The question felt like a threat.
“Well enough,” she lied. “He’s very protective.”
“Didn’t look like the type of guy you’d hang around with.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Jason.” Her white knuckles showed stark against the black phone cord in her fist. “Like the fact that I’m hanging up now and blocking your number.”
“Morgan—”
She placed the receiver down with deliberate calm even as her heart pounded against her ribs. Before she could talk herself out of it, she jumped out of bed and checked her front door for the lock and the chain that was her only defense if Jason tried to break in.
Secure, but suddenly it seemed woefully inadequate. She dragged one of her kitchen chairs over to prop under the doorhandle. Maybe overkill, but one could never be too careful.
You should change your locks tomorrow.Her helmeted hero’s advice echoed in her thoughts.
Morgan glanced back at her phone. Should she text him again? No—it was ridiculous to rely on a stranger she’d just met, even if he had helped her tonight. She wasn’t some damsel who needed constant rescuing.
Instead, she called Tessa.
“Oh my God, finally!” her friend answered without preamble. “Did you confront that cheating bastard? Tell me everything.”
Morgan sank onto the couch, suddenly exhausted. “I did. At the restaurant. It was... messy.”
“Good messy? Like you dumped marinara sauce on his lying head?”
Despite everything, Morgan laughed. “No, though that would have been satisfying. Just your standard public confrontation, complete with staring patrons and a humiliated now-ex-boyfriend.”
“I wish I could have seen his face. Did the blonde realize she was the side piece?”
“I don’t think so.” Morgan twisted a strand of hair around her finger. “She seemed surprised when I said I was his girlfriend.”
“What a piece of—wait.” Tessa’s voice sharpened. “Are you okay? Are you home? Do you want me to come over?”
