Hopelessly Devoted (Bayou Devils MC Book 1)

by A. M. Myers

  I was completely shattered, broken in a way that I didn’t even recognize myself, and I promised that I would never let that happen again. And even though I’ve moved on with my life, I’ve stuck to my “no dating” policy. It drives Izzy up a wall because she’s going out with someone new every weekend but I don’t want to force something that should be natural. Izzy likes to play and have fun but I’m a relationship girl, and the way she lives her life never really appealed to me. She always wants to set me up with some guy she knows, and I love that girl but it drives me crazy.

  Pulling to a stop, I’m drawn out of my thoughts, and I sigh as I turn off the car and grab my phone before stepping out. Troy waves at me from the door, and I smile, offering him a small wave as I shut the door and lock it. I’ve got this, I remind myself for what feels like the tenth time tonight and make my way to the door. When I reach him, he slips an arm around my back and guides me inside to the hostess stand. She smiles sweetly at us and grabs two menus before leading us to a table in the back. As we sit down, she sets a menu in front of each of us and fills up our water glasses before leaving.

  “So, what is it that you do again?” he asks, pulling my attention away from the menu, and my growling stomach.

  “I’m a reporter at the newspaper.”

  “Oh, man, I think I would go crazy if I had to sit at a desk all day long.”

  I nod, taking a sip of the water as I try to sneak peeks at the menu without being rude. “Yeah, it can make you a little stir crazy at times but I get up and go get water or something to stretch my legs. Plus, I’m out in the field a lot.”

  “I could give you some easy workouts you can do around your desk, if you want.”

  I picture standing up in the sea of cubicles and trying to do exercise moves as all the other reporters look on, and it makes me laugh. “No. Thank you, though.”

  He nods again and looks off to the side of our table as an awkward silence falls over us. Thankfully, the waiter appears so we don’t suffer through it for long.

  “Good evening. My name is Henry, and I’ll be your server this evening. Can I get you folks started off with an appetizer?”

  I smile up at Henry and start to tell him that I’d love some mozzarella sticks when Troy interrupts me.

  “We’ll just take two chef salads, please.”

  I blink in shock, and poor Henry looks to me for confirmation. When I try to tell him that I don’t want the salad, Troy interrupts me again.

  “That’ll be all. Thank you.” His voice is hard like he’s angry or something, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why. Also, I don’t really care anymore. I haven’t even known this guy for an hour, and he’s already hugged me and ordered for me like he knows me. And a salad? Seriously? Salad is the food before the food. Henry scurries off, and I turn to Troy, doing my best to remain calm.

  It’s not a big deal.

  I can just eat real food when I get home.

  “Trust me, you’ll thank me later,” Troy says, and I take another deep breath, feeling like my face is turning bright red from the anger simmering just under the surface. Just what the hell does he mean by that?

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m just saying, Babe. If you stuck to salad and let me train you, you would be a knockout. You probably only need to lose five to ten pounds.”

  An explosion of anger rocks through me, and I do my best to not shoot a death glare at him. I’m not a big girl but I do have curves and up until this moment, I never thought that was a bad thing. Who the hell does he think he is and what happened to the sad guy that I left at the obstacle course? It’s like he swapped bodies with someone. I take a drink of the water in front of me, and my hand shakes. I want to say something to him but I’m honestly so shocked that I can’t find the words. He picks up on my anger though and holds his hands up.

  “Hey, don’t get mad. I’m just saying that if we worked a little bit of weight off you, you’d be a ten.”

  He winks, and I feel like I’m going to explode. I have to keep reminding myself that prison yard orange is so not my fucking color as I pull my phone out of my purse and fire off a text to Izzy.

  Me:

  911. Save me.

  “Like how often a week do you eat junk food? I bet if you cleared that shit out of your diet, it would help a lot.”

  Izzy replies back immediately and saves me from launching across this table and throttling Troy and his oversized muscles with my bare hands.

  Izzy:

  On a scale of 1 – prison time, how bad is it?

  Me:

  25 to life.

  I glance across the table at him, and he’s still rambling on about my diet and me just going for a walk every now and then but I’m tuning him out. It’s really for his own good. My phone rings, Izzy’s picture popping up on my screen, and I let out a relieved sigh.

  “I’m so sorry. I have to take this,” I say, and he finally shuts his mouth, nodding at me. I answer the phone and immediately have to pull it away from my ear to avoid permanent damage.

  “Ali!” Izzy screams into the phone, and the people at the tables surrounding us all turn to look with wide eyes.

  “Izzy, are you okay? What’s wrong?” If I didn’t want to get out of here so badly, I would be laughing my ass off right now. She is so goddamn dramatic.

  “I fell down the stairs, and I think my leg is broken. You have to come here!” she wails, adding in some fake tears that sound very convincing.

  “Did you call an ambulance?”

  “No, I need you. Please, Ali. It hurts so bad,” she screams, and I grab my bag from the floor in preparation.

  “Okay, Sweetie. I’m coming right now, okay? Just hang tight.” I hang up the phone and look at Troy with an apologetic look. He looks genuinely concerned, and I bite my lip to hold back my laughter.

  “I’m so sorry. I have to go.”

  “Of course, do you want me to drive you?” he asks, standing up to go with me.

  “No, it’s okay. You stay here and eat your dinner. We’ll be fine,” I tell him, standing, and rushing out of there with another quick “I’m sorry” as I race past him. As soon as I’m outside, I dial Izzy again, and when she answers the phone, I can hear the smile in her voice.

  “How was that?”

  “You’re so over the top,” I tell her, finally letting the laughter spill out, and she joins me.

  “It got the job done, didn’t it?”

  “Yeah, just remind me to submit that little performance for an Oscar this year,” I laugh, sliding into my car, and locking the door, thankful that my windows are tinted and no one can see me.

  “I’d like to thank God, first and foremost, and of course my parents for always believing in me,” she says, launching into a fake Oscar acceptance speech that makes me laugh even harder as I pull away from the curb.

  “Over the top,” I say again, interrupting her, and she laughs.

  “So, what happened to make you use the 911?”

  “I’ll tell you all about it later. Right now, I’m gonna go home and drown myself in a bottle of wine.”

  She laughs again. “Okay. Drink a glass in my honor.”

  “Of course, you saved me. Love you, Girlie.”

  “Love you, too. Talk to you tomorrow.”

  I hang up and chuckle to myself as I remember Troy’s face in the restaurant. I’m so glad we made up that silly little system. It’s usually Izzy using it but I’m grateful that it was there when I needed it, too. I sigh as I drive back home, ready to get this whole thing over with. One date down, only two more to go.

  Chapter Two

  Alison

  “Hey, what are you up to tonight?” Izzy asks as soon as I answer the phone, and I lean back in the seat of my car and sigh.

  “Another date.”

  “Interesting,” she hums. “You’re really living it up, huh?”

  I let out a sharp laugh and shake my head. “No, not really.”

  “Oh, come on. You h
aven’t gone out in over a year, and now you’ve had two dates in two days. Sounds like you’re trying to get back on the horse to me.”

  Checking the time, I turn the car off and open the door. “I promise it’s not what you think.”

  “What is it then?” she asks.

  “I don’t have time to explain it right now.” I stop by the front door of the restaurant, and lean against the wall, hoping I can get her to drop this before my date gets here.

  “Tough, missy. Start talking and leave nothing out.”

  “I really can’t, Iz. I’m standing outside the restaurant right now, and my date will be here any second.”

  She huffs, and I imagine her crossing her arms over her chest and pouting, which makes me laugh. “Fine, but I want a full report this weekend. Capisce?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I got it,” I laugh. We wrap up the call, and I shove my phone back in my purse and turn to go in the restaurant.

  “Are you Ali?” someone asks, and I look up, meeting warm brown eyes and a mop of curly brown hair.

  “Zach?” I ask, and he smiles. He nods and holds his hand out to me. I shake it and relax a little. We’re off to a good start, and while I don’t get sparks or crazy butterflies when our hands touch, I do feel comfortable around him. When he releases me, he extends his hand out in front of him to indicate that I should go first, and I feel a little more of my stress melt away. He’s perfectly nice, and for the first time since this assignment started, I don’t feel like it’s the worst thing ever.

  A hostess greets us and grabs two menus before leading us to a table out on the patio with a reserved sign on it. There are other tables out here but they are all empty, and I can’t help but feel like this was planned. I look over to Zach, who shrugs.

  “I’m friends with the manager, and he owes me a favor,” he says, a slight blush rising to his cheeks.

  “That’s really sweet. Thank you.”

  He pulls my chair out for me and I sit while he goes to the other side, and the hostess sets the menus down in front of us. As she’s filling up our water glasses, I take a quick look through the menu and decide on what I want. This is one of my favorite restaurants so I was happy when Zach recommended it. She asks for our drink orders, and after we rattle them off, she leaves.

  “So,” he says, and then his voice trails off and we both laugh, some of the first date awkwardness dissipating.

  “I know I read it on your profile but tell me again what you do?” I ask, and he gives me an easy smile.

  “I’m a manager at a clothing store right now.”

  “Right now?”

  He nods, taking a sip of his water. “Yeah, I’m going to school to get my business degree.”

  “Oh, very cool.”

  “Yeah, what about you?”

  The hostess comes back with my wine and Zach’s beer, setting them down in front of each of us and leaving without a word.

  “Well, I’m a crime reporter right now but I’m up for a columnist position so I’m really hoping that I get that.”

  The waitress appears at our table before he can say anything else, and we both order and hand her back our menus before she bustles off again.

  “What do you want to write your column about?” he asks when she leaves, and I smile. I love talking about my work, and I could probably do it all through dinner if he let me, so this part is easy for me.

  “I’m not sure yet. I’d love to find a way to help people, though. It’d be a nice change of pace from what I’m doing now.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, as a crime reporter, I kind of only show up when something bad has happened to someone. It’s awful to dig into someone’s pain like that, especially when it’s still so raw.”

  He nods, looking thoughtfully off in the distance for a second. “Yeah, I guess I can see how that would be draining.”

  “It is,” I tell him, nodding because he kind of hit the nail on the head. The stories I write do take a lot out of me. Listening to a father break down and sob in front of me after his daughter has been killed or watching a shop owner walk through the store that he spent his life building after someone broke in and robbed him sometimes takes every ounce of strength I can muster.

  We chat casually, and I like that it’s easy to talk to him. The waitress stops by the table and drops off the appetizer that Zach ordered, and I realize that it’s one of my favorites. When she leaves, he slides the plate between us.

  “They seriously have the best fried mozzarella I’ve ever had,” he says, taking a piece at the same time that I do.

  “I know. This is one of my favorite restaurants.”

  “Wow. Lucky guess.”

  I nod and take another bite of the food. “Did you grow up around here?” I ask, finding myself genuinely interested. We may not be right for each other romantically but there’s no reason that we can’t be friends. In fact, I think Zach and I could be good friends.

  “Naw, I grew up in South Carolina near Charleston.”

  “Oh, what brought you over this way?” I ask, and he tenses up.

  “A girl.”

  It’s the only answer I get, and he’s quiet for a few awkward moments. Glancing out at the river, I try to think of something to say but I’m not even sure what upset him. The waitress comes back with our dinners, and he seems to shake off whatever it was that was bothering him as we dig into the food.

  “Are you going to LSU?” I ask, and he nods.

  “Yeah, I have a life here now, and it seemed silly to go anywhere else.”

  I watch him for a moment, unsure if he’s completely recovered from earlier. “Can I ask you something?”

  He looks up and seems to think it over for a moment before nodding. “Yeah.”

  “Why did you wait so long to go to school?”

  His gaze hardens right in front of me, and he clenches his teeth as I lean away from him, surprised by his reaction. “Because I was with this girl, my high school sweetheart, actually. And she wanted to go to school so I needed to work to support us. We had a whole plan, you know? She would go to school and then after she graduated, I would start classes, but instead, she started spreading her legs for one of the guys in her art class.”

  “Oh my god, that’s terrible. I’m sorry.” I know exactly how he feels, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

  “We had a plan, you know? She was going to design jewelry, and I was gonna run the business but that wasn’t good enough for her. Four years just flushed down the fucking drain.” He’s off on a tangent now, and I don’t think I could get a word in if I tried.

  “There was so much bullshit. I put up with it ‘cause I loved her, and we were gonna have a life together but the little bitch only ever thought about herself. She was only concerned with what she wanted, and it didn’t matter who she trampled in the goddamn process. Why couldn’t she just break up with me if she wanted someone else?”

  I try to say something but he just keeps talking, and I’m not even sure that he knows I’m here anymore. I tune out his ongoing rant as I start eating faster, trying to finish this up so I can leave. I’m sure that I look very lady-like right now as I shovel baked ziti into my mouth, but desperate times and all that. He was nice at first but this is really uncomfortable.

  “It was like being with a child! She never did anything to help out around the house so on top of working my ass off to support us, I was also doing all the cleaning and cooking. Really, I was like a butler, except she occasionally had sex with me when she wasn’t screwing the model from her class.”

  I try to keep my face neutral as he goes on ranting but each thing he says only adds to the awkwardness blanketing us right now. I believe that a relationship can survive after cheating but both people have to want it and work really hard at it. Listening to him, I have to wonder why he’s still so hung up on her if their relationship was really as bad as he’s describing. When Adam cheated on me, I was shattered, but in a way, I was thankful for it. His infidelity allo
wed me to see how lopsided our relationship had been and how much the way he treated me had taken out of me.

  Adam wasn’t intentionally cruel to me. He was just young and selfish. Adam only did what he wanted, and I was never a priority in his mind. It’s amazing how much that can take out of a person, and it’s taken me so long to find my way back to a version of myself that I was before he came into my life. Sometimes, I have to wonder if it’s really worth it, and it’s one of the reasons that I don’t date. What’s the point?

  I would like to say that I’m too young to be so jaded but I fear that I am that jaded. My days are spent around all different kinds of people, and not a single one of them has caught my eye since our break-up. I haven’t even spared a guy a second glance in over two years, and it might be that I’m just not cut out for relationships.

  “How can a person be that selfish, you know? How can you spend that many years with a person, claim to love them but then treat them like that? I’ve never understood. If she wanted to be with someone else, she could have just broken up with me but no, she wanted to have her cake and eat it, too,” he says, and I nod as I take a sip of wine and shove more food in my mouth.

  Finally, I finish my meal and sit back, finishing off my wine and discreetly checking my phone, ready to call in Izzy again if I need to. Zach looks up from his meal and notices that I’m done and mercifully stops talking.

  “You ready to get out of here?” he asks, looking sad at the possibility but I don’t understand why. He just spent the last fifteen minutes complaining about his ex – in excruciating detail.