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As night fell, I found myself at the Roost asking for her. Her friends let me know she was still at work, but they weren’t volunteering information. I remembered her ex-husband talking about a dog bakery. After a quick search on my phone, I headed to her shop, Doghouse Delights. The place was closed, but the lights were still on inside. I knocked on the door, hoping she’d let me in.
She opened up, surprise flickering in her eyes. “Boiler, what are you doing here?”
“I need to talk,” I said, my voice steady. “Can I come in?”
She hesitated, then stepped aside. The shop was all cozy, filled with the comforting scents of baked goods which was odd because it was for dogs. But it was like seeing her that night, she waited with me at the scene of the accident. Seeing a different side of her.
My eyes roamed the shop. A collection of dog tags was displayed on the walls, each with a little story attached. Tags not from soldiers but from actual dogs, the animals.
“What are these?”
“Sometimes I bring a stray or two in, for my customers to take home. These folks who buy these cookies have the means. These are the tags they leave behind when their new owners rename them.”
Tank’s sweet side—stray dogs? Who would've thought?
“What do you want to talk about?” she asked, crossing her arms defensively.
“Last night,” I said, meeting her gaze. “It wasn’t a mistake, Tank. It meant something to me.” Smirking, I approached. I ran my hand through my hair. “God knows I want it to happen again and again.”
“I barely know you.” She looked away, her expression pained. “Boiler, I can’t do this. I can’t get involved with someone from a rival club.”
“The truce changes things,” I insisted, stepping even closer. “We can make this work.”
“It’s not just that,” she said, her voice breaking. “I’ve been hurt before. I can’t go through that again.”
I reached out, gently taking her hand. “But I’m not going to hurt you.”
She studied me, her eyes filled with uncertainty as she pulled away. “Why are you doing this, Boiler?”
“Because I want you,” I said, my voice soft. “And I know you want me too.”
As we stood there, I noticed a jar of candies on the counter. Tank caught my glance and her cheeks turned a slight shade of pink. “You got a sweet tooth, huh?”
Her eyes flashed, daring me to comment further. “Yeah, so what? I’ve got a stash of chocolates too. What’s it to you?”
“Just think it’s cute,” I said with a grin. “A tough biker with a soft spot for sweets.”
She was silent for a moment, then shook her head. “You’re a hothead. That’s how you got your name, right? I don’t date hotheads. I might have sex with them, but everyone makes mistakes. Besides, you’ve already caused me enough trouble with that bar fight. Rage wants me to make sure all the riders are still coming to our charity run and you scared them off.”
“Is that what this is? You need me to make nice with the weekenders?”
“It’s too late. I reached out to them, and they said they’re not coming. Rage is going to have my hide because you started that fight.”
“Okay, that’s the problem? I can handle that. I get all the riders to come back and donate, to ride, and you’ll give me a chance.”
Tank shook her head. “No, Boiler. I’ve come too far to fall right back into bed with a man like you.”
“Tank—”
“No.” Her voice was firm, final. “This is over, Boiler. Go back to your club and leave me alone.”
I looked around her shop one last time. The dog tags, the stash of sweets, and the sketches of bikes and landscapes peeking out from under the counter. Tank had layers I wanted to peel back and explore, but she was putting up walls faster than I could tear them down. I noticed a small vegetable garden through the back window. Who would’ve thought a fierce biker like her would find peace in gardening? We were much more alike than she realized.
As I turned to leave, I couldn’t help but catch sight of a sketchpad on the counter. Flipping it open, I saw detailed drawings of her friends, their bikes, and beautiful landscapes. “You’re an artist too?”
She snatched the pad from my hands, her eyes blazing. “Get out, Boiler.”
I stood there for a moment, feeling a surge of anger and frustration. But I knew pushing her now would only make things worse. So, I walked out, the door closing behind me with a sense of finality.
