Games of the Heart

Chapter Two Making a Mental Note to Do Cartwheels

Okay, shit. I just fucked Mike Haines, my sister’s ex-boyfriend.

No. That wasn’t right.

Okay, shit. I just fucked the unbelievably gorgeous Mike Haines, who was hot when he was seventeen but who was astronomically, amazingly, super hot gorgeous now, my sister’s ex-boyfriend and it was by far and away the best sex I’d had in my life.

And my brother had never died so I couldn’t know unless we had sex again, and Jesus, God, please, I pray, let it happen again, but it wasn’t about emotional trauma.

It was just that Mike was astronomically, amazingly good in bed.

Okay, shit. Okay, shit!

Right, I should probably not pray to God to give me great sex but, seriously, He created Mike and gave him his abilities, He had to know a woman would want more.

But now what did I do?

I drew in a breath and felt Mike’s fingers drifting on my shoulder. His touch was light. It was also sweet. And I liked it a whole lot. But it was messing with my ability to concentrate.

Further messing with it was that I had my head in the middle of his chest, my arm thrown around his flat abs and my leg tangled in his. After we were done, Mike put us in bed and pulled the sheets up to our waists.

I stared down his chest to his abs trying to think. Then my thoughts about what to do next drifted away with Mike’s sweet touch as I stared at his abs and I found a more pertinent thought to think of.

This being if it was possible that his abs were another divine miracle. I mean, at his age, how did he have a six-pack?

I shook this thought from my brain and, doing what I’d done my whole life, I decided to wing it.

So I turned, shifted slightly up him, my naked torso pressed to his and I got face-to-face.

“Okay,” I started to lay it out. “My brother just died and since I bawled in your arms, you know I’m upset. My sister is a bitch and she’s pissed me off and since I blurted that shit out to you, you know I’m upset about that too. And, the gig with this is, straight up, I needed something to take my mind off all that shit. And you’re gorgeous. And you’re Mike. And you showed up out-of-the-blue at my hotel room and set me off. And I had a crush on you when I was a kid. But, babe, seriously, about two seconds into your kiss, it wasn’t about that. It didn’t have anything to do with that. I swear to God, I’m not lying and I need you to know it.”

After laying it out, I shut up. And when I did his dark brown eyes blinked and they did this slow.

Shit. Even that was hot.

And I’d always loved his eyes.

No. That wasn’t right.

I’d always loved everything about Mike Haines. His thick dark blond hair. His tall, lean frame. His easy smile. The way he teased which was never mean and always sweet. The way, when he was looking at you, he made you feel like the rest of the world had melted away and you were the only person he could see.

Everything.

I watched him grin even slower and he muttered, “Don’t beat around the bush, darlin’.”

I grinned back as the pressure around my heart released.

Then it built up again when I did what I’d done my whole life, made a decision and didn’t hesitate before I took a chance.

“Since you just gave me three mind-boggling orgasms, payback doesn’t exactly scream ‘Reggie’s Pizza’, but it’s a start. I’ll pay if you stay and they deliver.”

I wanted him to say yes. I wanted it more than I wanted to be three years older when he was dating my sister so he could, instead, date me. I wanted it more than anything I’d wanted in a long time.

Years.

Maybe decades.

And the pressure released when he gave it to me by saying, “Works for me.”

I smiled straight out this time and his arm around my shoulders gave me a squeeze as his other arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me further on top of him.

“Coupla things though,” he muttered.

“Sock ‘em to me,” I muttered back and his lips twitched.

Then he said, “Reggie’s boy Toby does the delivering but it’s rare. We’ll order, I’ll go get it.”

That was a bummer because I didn’t want him to leave that bed or my sight but I still whispered, “Right.”

“Second, I pay.”

“But –” I started and his arms gave me a squeeze, his face growing serious.

“Women don’t buy with me,” he said quietly. “I get it, women’s lib and all, got no problem with that. But you’re with me, I pay. No discussion, definitely no stupid-ass fight. That’s just the way it is with me.”

Women’s lib and all. That was funny.

That’ s just the way it is with me. That wasn’t funny. I liked that. A whole lot. The best part was that it intimated it was about more than just one-time pizza.

Still, there was a debt to be paid.

“So how do I pay you back for three mind-boggling orgasms?” I asked.

His face changed but he didn’t answer. This was because the way his face changed was the answer.

An answer I liked. It was sexy as all hell.

And it also intimated this was more than one-time sex after a funeral.

“Okay then, we’re good,” I muttered through another grin, his arms gave me another squeeze, his lips did another twitch then he muttered back, “Reach out and get my jacket, honey.”

I slid off him, scooted to the edge of the bed, reached out and grabbed his suit jacket. I lifted it up, pulled the covers up my back and rolled under them toward him, bringing his jacket with me. I gave it to him, he fished his cell out of the inside pocket then he threw it over me and back on the floor.

I rolled into him as he pressed buttons on the phone.

“What do you like on it?” he asked, eyes to the phone.

“Pepperoni, sausage, mushrooms, onions, peppers, olives, ham or any combination of the above.”

His eyes went from his phone to me, “Pineapple?”

My lip curled as my nose scrunched and I didn’t try to stop it. Then again, I never tried to stop it. I was me. I thought what I thought. I liked what I liked. And I didn’t hide much of anything. Life was exhausting enough with all the ups and downs and bullshit people kept trying to feed you. Expending that kind of effort for essentially no purpose seemed a ridiculous waste of energy.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Mike murmured and I stopped scrunching my nose and smiled at him again.

“That’s a resounding no,” I clarified.

He smiled back then asked, “Meat lovers?”

“Sounds good to me.”

He pressed a button on his phone then put it to his ear.

“I approve,” I stated, shifting my body deeper into his, his arm immediately moved around me and I liked that too. “Reggie’s on speed dial,” I finished.

“Got two kids, only way it could be,” he muttered then, “Toby? Yeah, Mike Haines. I’m ordering a large meat lovers for pickup.”

He continued to order and my thoughts turned to the fact he had two kids.

I knew that. Darrin told me. Darrin also told me Mike was divorced. Darrin had called the minute he heard. Darrin, until four days ago when he died, had delusions that he could wring a miracle. That miracle being that Mike Haines would put his ring on my finger thus bringing me back to The ‘Burg so I would be in the bosom of my family. Better yet, that I would be in the bed of a decent man who wouldn’t work my last nerve and Darrin could quit worrying about me. Therefore, Darrin had been generous with his information that it was known throughout town that Mike’s ex was a total bitch. Also that she treated him like shit. And further that Mike was roundly liked so it took effort to stop the town council from organizing a parade when the divorce was final.

What I got out of this was that it sucked a good guy like Mike got caught up with a woman who treated him like shit. I also wondered how good women like me, and I hoped I was a decent person or at least I tried to be, found myself losers and good guys like Mike found bitches and people like us never found each other.

The way of the world.

Until, of course, on the day of your brother’s funeral, you found yourself naked in bed with a good guy who was fucking great at sex, had awesome hometown pizza on speed dial and knew without asking to order a large.

Still, it wasn’t lost on me that if Darrin was alive, regardless of the fact he was religious, conservative and I was his baby sister, he’d be doing cartwheels knowing I was naked in bed with Mike Haines.

And part of this not being lost on me was the part that sucked because Darrin was no longer alive.

I knew my thoughts had drifted but I didn’t know how deeply or that my eyes had until I heard Mike call, “Dusty?” and felt his arm give me a squeeze.

My eyes left the pillow beside his head and went to his to see not only were his on me but he was no longer on the phone.

Mike caught one look at my eyes and whispered, “Honey,” as he tossed his phone on the bed, his other arm came around me and I knew he read me.

“Sorry,” I whispered back.

“Don’t be.” He, too, was still whispering.

“You ever lose anyone close?” I asked, he shook his head and I felt my lips curve but I didn’t feel the feeling I usually felt when they did that. “I’m glad for that for you,” I said softly.

“My job, I deal with a lot of loss, Dusty, and you’ll get through,” Mike assured me.

“I know, I just don’t wanna have to.”

“Bet not,” he muttered then sat up, taking me with him, shifting me and the covers fell down around our waists as he settled sitting up with me straddling him. He had one arm wrapped around my hips, the other one angled up my back with his hand flat and warm between my shoulder blades. I tipped my head down to look at him and saw he was already looking up at me. “Like I said, my job, see a lot of loss. Never get used to it. So I guess, being removed and feeling that, you experiencing it, the bad news is, you’ll never get used to not having Darrin anymore. So there are no magic words. There’s no way to ease the pain. This is just life and like anything, you keep on living it and just learn to deal.”

“Don’t beat around the bush, darlin’,” I repeated his words from earlier as a lame joke and, even though we both knew it fell flat, he still was a good guy so he smiled at me. I liked his smile so I curled a hand around the side of his neck and my arm around his shoulders. Once I’d latched on, I dipped my face close and promised, “I’ll learn to deal.”

He tipped up his chin, pressing his hand between my shoulder blades and touched his lips to mine. Then he settled back and said softly, “And I’ll go get pizza.”

“I bet pizza will help me deal,” I guessed and got another smile. This one hit his eyes and I liked it a whole lot more.

“Yeah, bet it will. Now shift off me, Angel, I gotta get dressed.”

I shifted off him but I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to because his body was hard, warm, big and I liked being wrapped around it with his arms wrapped around me.

And I didn’t want to because he called me “Angel”. He was the only one who ever called me “Angel”. He started to call me that within weeks of him dating Debbie. I didn’t know why he did it because I wasn’t an angel, I was a rascal or at least that was what my Dad thought of me and thus that was my Dad’s nickname for me. But, for whatever reasons he called me that, I’d loved it then and I loved it now.

But more, I loved it that he remembered to call me “Angel”. Time had gone by, not a little of it, a lot. And as that time went by, I thought of him and not only when Darrin was informing on him to me. Mike Haines had popped into my mind often as I lived my life. And each time, he felt good there. In fact, it wasn’t unheard of for me to talk about him. All my closest friends knew all about him, including updates on his life after Darrin reported in. I didn’t know if the same happened with him about me. But I liked it that he didn’t forget something important to me.

I pulled the covers up to my chest, watched as he tugged on his clothes and listened as he said, “Gonna hit my house, change, go get the pizza and be back. Probably take twenty minutes, half an hour.”

“Later, do you have to get back to your kids?” I asked and his eyes came to me as he buttoned up his shirt.

“They’re with their mother this weekend.”

Lucky, lucky me.

“So is that a no?” I asked quietly and hopefully.

“Is that an invitation to spend the night?” he asked back, not quietly.

“Yes,” I answered, also not quietly.

He finished with his buttons, his hands went to his hips but his eyes didn’t leave me.

Then it was Mike talking quietly when he stated, “While I’m gone, honey, I need you to think. I came in here bein’ a dick, out of line and I wound you up. You’ve lost Darrin and I know you’re in pain. But what you said earlier, I’ll tell you now, I agree. About two seconds into that kiss, it became somethin’ different for me. Pleased as fuck to hear you felt the same.” He grinned a gentle grin before he went on, “Now, I’m glad you liked what we had in that bed, because, bottom line, I liked it too and when I say that, Angel, I liked it too. And I can walk away after pizza happy I gave you that in the middle of a shitty time for you. But, before I get back, you gotta think about if what you said is true. If this is about working through your pain with me, I gave what I’m gonna give to that. If this is about something else, then I’ll be spending the night.”

“You really don’t beat around the bush, do you?” I whispered, liking that too.

A whole lot.

“Got two kids, a bitch of an ex-wife who made my life a misery and went through somethin’ which meant I lost my shot at a good thing that would make me happy. Since I had a taste of a good thing, I know what I’m lookin’ for. And since I lost that, I’m not a man prone to dickin’ around. Not anymore.”

There it was. He didn’t beat around the bush.

Yep, I liked that.

A whole lot.

“I’ll search my feelings while you’re gone, Mike,” I told him softly.

That was when he walked to the bed, reached out, grasped my hips and pulled me toward him. When he had me where he wanted me, he put a hand in the bed on either side of my hips and leaned in so his face was an inch away from mine.

Then, softly back, he said, “I’d appreciate that, Dusty.”

All that was hot. Every word he’d said. Every move he’d made.

And that had nothing to do with me working through pain.

Not one thing.

It was just hot.

“Now,” he ordered, “kiss me.”

That was hot too so I leaned up and pressed my mouth to his.

His arm sliced around my back and pulled me up harder so my body was pressed to his and he took my lip touch straight to a hard, deep, wet kiss.

I liked that a whole lot more.

“Be back, no later than thirty,” he whispered against my lips when he stopped kissing me.

I gave a slight nod in the space he allowed and tried to regulate my breathing.

I watched his eyes smile.

Then he set me in bed, let me go, sat on the side of the bed and dealt with his socks and shoes.

“Keycard, nightstand,” I told him when he stood. He looked down at me. Not done giving me Mike Lovin’, he wrapped a hand around the back of my head, leaned in and touched his mouth to mine.

Then he let me go again, stretched out an arm and nabbed his phone. Then he reached down, grabbed his suit jacket and I watched him move to the nightstand, tag the keycard then I watched him lift a hand, flick out two fingers and shoot me a grin before he left the room.

The door had just closed behind him when I dropped to my back and stared at the ceiling.

Moments passed before, my eyes on the ceiling, I asked my brother, “Happy?”

Darrin didn’t reply but I knew my brother. No way in hell he’d want to leave the wife he loved, the boys who meant the world to him, a father who he respected and taught him how to be a man, the mother who doted on him and taught him how to love or the sisters who worked his nerves but he loved all the same.

Still, I figured, once he knew we’d all sorted out our shit, he was making a mental note to do cartwheels.

I’d cleaned up, made certain my hair wasn’t a mess (it was, the knot I’d tied it in around a ponytail holder had gone wonky so I just pulled it out) and I’d tugged on my panties and tee when my cell rang.

I snatched it up, looked at the display and fought the urge to hurl it across the room.

Fuck. Beau. My most recent ex. That was to say, he was recent in the sense he was the latest guy I’d broken up with not recent in the sense that I broke up with him recently. We’d been officially done and I’d kicked his ass out nearly four months ago. We’d been unofficially done for eight months before that. We’d been teetering on done for six months before that.

Beau just didn’t get that we were Grade A Certified Capital D Done.

And I knew if I didn’t take this call, he’d call me again and again until I did. This was part of how he was working my nerves and had been since I’d kicked his ass out. And considering I had a sister-in-law, two beloved nephews and a Mom and Dad close who had all lost a loved one, I didn’t want to turn off my phone.

Goddamn it. Beau.

When Mike got back, I was going to ask him if he knew how to commit the perfect murder.

Then I hit the button on the screen to take the call and put it to my ear.

“Seriously?” I used as my greeting.

“Dusty, baby,” he said softly.

He knew I loved my brother. He knew we were close. Since he’d lived with me, he had firsthand knowledge that Darrin and I talked on the phone once or twice a week. He knew I doted on my nephews. He knew I, unlike my sister, loved Rhonda. He knew I was grieving and he thought he could use it to get back in there.

“Beau, I’m kinda busy,” I informed him.

“Are you doing okay?” he asked me.

“No. Darrin died four days ago and I’m home in The ‘Burg with my sister breathing my airspace however distantly. It’s still closer than when she’s in DC working to get rapists free and I’m in Texas trying to forget my parents birthed three children. So no, I’m not okay.”

“You stayin’ long? You want me to fly up?”

Why was he so dense?

“Beau, not to be a bitch or anything but what have I done in the last four months that would give you the impression I want you to fly up and be here with me?”

“Dusty, times like these are tough,” he reminded me.

“Uh, yeah, Beau. I’m getting that.”

“And you need to be around people who care about you.”

“No, I need to be around people I want to be around, ergo, not you. Again, not to be a bitch or anything,” I added, well, so I wouldn’t be a bitch or anything even while I was totally being a bitch.

“Baby, I’m tryin’ to look out for you,” he whispered coaxingly and I hated that because it reminded me that used to work on me.

It didn’t anymore.

I didn’t remind him, as I had so many times I lost track, that he should have knocked himself out to look out for me before I dumped his ass. I didn’t remind him that he forgot in a lot of ways to knock himself out for me. I didn’t remind him that I didn’t actually need him to knock himself out but at least put a little effort into us. And I didn’t remind him that I’d knocked myself out trying to make us work and he’d not made an effort until I dumped his ass. Then, when I did, he’d acted surprised like the last fourteen months of our relationship that didn’t crash and burn but died a slow, agonizing death didn’t happen and we’d been riding a high of bounty. So I didn’t remind him how much his being totally clueless pissed me off.

Instead, I reminded him of something that now, because he wanted me back, he’d forget in half a second but he took for granted for the two and a half years we were together.

“I can look out for myself.”

He was silent.

I was wondering how long Mike had been gone and thinking I needed to take his order to heart. I didn’t want to mess this up and although Mike didn’t lapse into a fifteen minute soliloquy about the shit that had gone down in his life, what he said didn’t sound good. I didn’t want to jack him around. I needed to search my feelings and I couldn’t do that when I was getting pissed at my ex-boyfriend who not only couldn’t catch a clue but also had selective hearing and he had this so he wouldn’t have to catch a clue.

“Beau, I gotta go,” I told him.

He was again silent for a moment then in a soft voice he injected with too much sweet, he replied, “Right, baby, you need me, you know where to find me.”

Don’t hold your breath, moron, I thought but, not to be a bitch, I didn’t say.

“Good-bye, Beau,” I said firmly.

“Later, Dusty,” he replied and I rolled my eyes.

Totally couldn’t catch a clue and I wasn’t laying breadcrumbs either. I’d been laying it out, straight up, for four months.

I beeped off my phone, chucked it on the nightstand, got in the rumpled bed, stared at the ceiling and tried to search my feelings.

This was difficult since I didn’t do this. Ever. I felt something, I went with it.

Like being pissed, in pain and in a room with a Mike Haines, my adolescent crush, a man who was far more beautiful at forty-three than he’d been at seventeen and eighteen and when I’d been a total bitch to him the last time I talked to him and he was twenty-one. Finding myself in his arms, I wanted to kiss him. I wanted it badly. So I kissed him.

I felt it, I went with it.

This did not always work for me. I didn’t keep track but I figured I was around fifty-fifty. Sometimes, things went south. Sometimes, I hit a home run. I kept doing it because it was me. I also kept doing it because hitting a home run made it worth surviving the times things went south.

What I knew, staring at the ceiling, was that I wanted Mike to be a home run.

I didn’t want this because he was my adolescent crush. I didn’t want this because over the years I thought of him often and did it fondly. I didn’t want this because Mike was a phenomenal lover. I didn’t want this because it sucked huge my brother had died suddenly at the age of forty-four, he was my best friend and I had no stinking clue how to live my life without him. I didn’t want this because my brother who was my best friend wanted it for me.

I just wanted it.

I heard the lock click on the door, my head turned on the pillow and I watched Mike walk in.

No. That wasn’t right.

I caught a glimpse of Mike carrying a pizza box held aloft in one hand, his fingers wrapped around the handle of a six pack of bottled beer in the other hand. He was wearing a pair of jeans that looked freaking great on him. He was also wearing a brown sweater flecked with cream and gray bits with a tall collar that stood up around his muscular neck and had a couple of undone buttons at the throat that looked freaking great on him. He was further wearing a brown leather jacket that looked freaking great on him. And last, his hair had been mussed, probably changing, he hadn’t sorted it and that looked unbelievably freaking great on him. So I sat up in bed and twisted his way to make sure I didn’t miss anything.

He walked to the bed, his eyes on me and didn’t say a word as he dumped the pizza box on it. Then he kept silent as he moved to the nightstand and put the beer there. Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out a bottle opener and dropped it with a clatter next to the beer.

I was thinking he was smart to remember to bring a bottle opener because the hotel wasn’t The Ritz but I was guessing they probably would frown on us using the edges of their furniture to force off beer caps as he shrugged off his leather jacket and threw it at the end of the bed.

Then he looked at me, crossed his arms on his chest and asked, “So?”

He totally wasn’t dicking around.

“Welp,” I started. “I figure you had time to think too but as for me, you want to, you’re spending the night.”

He studied me.

Then, softly, he asked, “Sure?”

I drew in breath.

Then I nodded and whispered, “I’m sure.”

When I did, he returned bizarrely, “How do you feel about cold pizza?”

I tipped my head to the side in confusion and asked, “Sorry?”

Before I knew what he was about, he picked up the pizza box, dropped it on the floor, leaned into me, put his hands in my pits, plucked me right out of bed and into his arms. Then he twisted and dropped, landing on his back with me on top of him. I was recovering from this, not, mind you, successfully when he rolled me to my back with him on top of me.

His face all I could see, his hands moving on me, he whispered, “Cold pizza. You got a problem with that?”

“No,” I whispered back.

“Right,” he murmured.

Then he kissed me before he did a bunch of other stuff to me while the pizza sat on the floor and got cold.

“Pottery?”

“Yep, vases and bowls and shit like that. I mean it’s mine. It’s gorgeous. I love it. I put a lot into it. I totally get off on it in a way that when I say that I mean, when I’m working, I lose time. I can start at noon and the next thing I know, it’s midnight. But still, I think it’s totally whacked that someone pays two hundred dollars for a medium-sized vase,” I shrugged, “but there it is.”

Mike had on nothing but his jeans. His back was to the headboard. His eyes were on me.

I again had on nothing but my tee and panties. My body was cocked at the hips, my calves lying across his thighs, the rest of me lying across the bed. I was on my side, up on a forearm with a pillow scrunched under me.

I had a beer resting in the crook of my hips. We had the pizza box between us. And we now knew each other pretty thoroughly biblically so we were getting to the other good stuff.

“Damn, honey, your shit must be good,” he said softly as I took a bite of pizza.

I chewed, swallowed and grinned. Then I stated, “I think so.” Then I took another bite.

“I’m impressed,” he replied.

I chewed, swallowed and grinned again before I warned, “Don’t be until you see it.”

He grinned back then remarked, “So you do something you love.”

“Totally,” I confirmed.

“Good for you, Dusty,” he muttered and took a bite of his own pizza.

“You like your gig?” I asked.

He chewed, swallowed and asked back, “Bein’ a cop?”

I nodded.

“Days I hate it, days I love it,” he answered. “But I feel it’s important work. Some days, I knock myself out and don’t see anything for it. Some days, I make a difference. The days I make a difference make the rest worth it. So yeah,” he grinned again, “overall, I like my gig.”

“Awesome,” I whispered then told him, “I thought you’d be president one day.”

He burst out laughing and I watched. That was something else I always loved about Mike. His laugh. He had a great sense of humor and he laughed a lot. It was always close, easy to get. Still, back in the day, I worked for it. But it was also deep and attractive. And, over the years, it had only gotten better.

A whole lot better.

When he sobered he asked, “President?” before he put the last bite of his slice of pizza in his mouth.

“Yep,” I replied, reaching for my new slice. “I crushed on you hard mostly because you were gorgeous, partly because you were you. I thought you could do anything.”

When I had my slice and looked back at him I noticed his face had gone soft and, seriously, he naturally had a lot of good looks but that was a clear winner.

Then, quietly, he said, “Sorry to disappoint you, honey.”

“I’m not disappointed, Mike,” I assured him. “I’m not certain, being older and understanding the ways of the world, that being president is such a sweet gig. Not thinking, the way you describe it, being a cop is any sweeter but, you do something you like. You make a difference. You feel that. It’s worth it to you then it works for me. Not that it has to work for me as long as it’s working for you.”

“It works for me,” he assured me back.

“Then good,” I whispered.

He grabbed a new slice. I took a bite of mine and washed it down with beer.

He took a bite from his, reached and grabbed his beer from the nightstand and was leaning back to replace it after taking a drag when he asked, “Wanna explain something to me?”

“Shoot,” I invited, taking another bite.

He sat back and leveled his eyes on me.

“Be seriously fuckin’ disappointed to find out my guess is not true but, you’re in this bed with me, you get what it means, me spending the night, that means you’re free. What I’d like to know is how that could be?”

“Sorry?”

“You free?”

“Free?”

“You got a man?”

I shook my head and added a, “Nope.”

“So how could that be?”

“I don’t get what you’re asking, babe.”

He stopped talking and studied me and he did this thoroughly in the sense that his eyes moved from my head to my legs in his lap and back again.

Then they caught mine and he stated, his voice firm and strangely edging toward irritated, “Dusty, I think you get me.”

“Uh…that would be negatory,” I returned.

He held my gaze then he asked, “Straight up?”

“Mike, you’re totally losing me.”

“Right,” he muttered then said louder, “Straight up, Dusty, you’re gorgeous. You’re fantastic in bed. You give world-class head. You’re funny. You like what you do and you’re successful at it. You obviously know yourself and you’re comfortable with what you know. So, with all that, I’m having trouble figuring out how you’re not taken.”

I liked that he thought all that. It was great.

But…seriously?

“Pointing out the obvious, but, Mike, you’re gorgeous. You’re fantastic in bed. When you went down on me, both times, I could make a case that I had an out of body experience. You’re nice. You like what you do and you’re successful at it. You know yourself and you’re comfortable with who you are. So, with all that, how can you ask me why I’m not taken when I’m guessing that you’re also free?”

His lips twitched and he muttered, “Point taken.”

I grinned through taking another bite of pizza.

Then one of his eyebrows went up and he asked, “Out of body experience?”

I chewed but kept grinning and did this nodding.

He again burst out laughing.

I kept right on grinning as I watched.

When he stopped, I spoke. “The world is whacked in a lot of ways. One of them, I’ve noticed, is that a lot of times, good guys get stuck with bitches. And good women get stuck with morons. I’m not a cynic. I’m not one of those women who moans that there aren’t any good guys. I know a bunch of them. And they’re all with bitches. I don’t know why this happens but I’ve found my fair share of morons. I think I’m an okay person. I could probably do more for charity. Once, I was in a hurry and only had four things to buy so I raced an old, blue haired lady with a full cart to the checkout and got in by the skin of my teeth. I’ve gotten pissed off while driving and flipped people the bird. So I’m far from perfect. But I’m not a bitch or a psycho. Still, I attract morons almost exclusively.” I grabbed my beer and finished with, “Present company excepted, of course.”

Mike grinned at me.

I took a sip, swallowed, returned my beer and noted, “And you said your ex was a bitch.”

He stopped grinning but nodded to me.

“And you’re a good guy so there you go. Proof my theory is correct. Good guys get saddled with bitches and good women get saddled with morons. It’s the way of the world.”

“Honey, don’t wanna remind you of this but I stormed into your room after making a stupid judgment, carrying out a shit, knee-jerk decision and acted like a dick.”

“Right, and honey,” I returned, “you popped my sister’s cherry. Sucks but you two have a connection. She knows you and she lost her brother, used it, fed you a line of bullshit, yanked your chain and you acted on that thinking you were taking my family’s back. Debbie’s a bitch but the reason you came here wasn’t to be a dick. You were looking out for my family. Am I supposed to be pissed at that?”

“Uh…no, seein’ as if you were, you wouldn’t be lyin’ across the bed in nothin’ but a tee and panties and I like eatin’ pizza when all I can see is you lyin’ across the bed in nothin’ but a tee and panties,” Mike answered.

I grinned again and asked jokingly, “So, you’re saying you came here hoping to get in my pants?”

He grinned back and replied, “No, I came here to ream your ass to sort your shit out. Tapping that ass was just lucky.”

At that, it was my turn to burst out laughing and when I was done, I wondered if my face looked enthralled like the look on Mike’s smiling face when I saw him watching me.

My laughter died but I held his eyes when I whispered, “Thank you.”

“For what, darlin’?”

“Making me laugh in a way that felt good and real four days after my brother died.”

The light went out of his eyes but they stayed warm as he threw his half-eaten slice of pizza in the box and ordered gently, “Come here, Dusty.”

I threw my half-eaten slice in with his, grabbed my beer and went there. He took my beer, reached his arm out and set it beside his on the nightstand then he came back to me. His hands at my hips, he guided me to straddling him and when I settled my ass in his lap he kept his hands where they were. I rested mine on his upper gut.

I looked down at him.

He looked up at me.

“Darrin was proud of you,” he told me, still talking gently.

“I know,” I told him. “And he was a good husband, a good Dad, a good brother and I was proud of him.”

“You’ll always have that.”

“I know.”

“You got a job now, keepin’ him alive for his boys.”

I took in a fluttering breath.

Then I repeated, “I know.”

“Focus on that.”

I nodded.

He kept looking at me and I let him as I breathed deep.

Then he spoke again. “You’re right, Angel, life is whacked. But sometimes, things get straightened out. And whatever drove me here means I get the honor of bein’ with you while you deal tonight. So, it might have been fucked what pushed me to seek you out but, you givin’ world class head or not, I’m glad I’m here.”

I felt the tears clog my throat but I pushed an, “I am too,” through them before I leaned down, gave him a quick kiss and both Mike’s arms circled me.

I swallowed back the tears as Mike watched then he told me softly, “I’m good, right here, not goin’ anywhere, you need to get that shit out.”

“Thanks, babe, but I’ve been crying my eyes out for four days so I gave myself a limit. I cried when Mom and Dad met me at the airport. I cried when I saw Rhonda. I cried when I saw the boys. And I cried after my big rant when you got here. I’m only allowed three. I’m already over my quota.”

“I won’t tell, you won’t.” He was still talking softly as his arms tightened around me.

I dropped my head, stuffed my face in his neck and shoved my arms behind him to hold him like he was holding me. I did this saying my thanks to God for not only making Mike Haines a good guy but keeping him that way.

“Tell me about your kids,” I mumbled, not lifting my head.

Mike knew my game and because he was a good guy, he didn’t hesitate falling into it.

“No is sixteen, close to seventeen. He’s into music. He plays drums, guitar and keyboards. All self-taught. He’s good. He’s got a garage band and since he also plays basketball, he’s tall, a good-lookin’ kid and he’s good at basketball, most of the girls in high school think he’s the second coming. My phone at home rings off the fuckin’ hook so I quit answering it and don’t even bother listening to the voicemail messages because they’re all for No.”

“No?” I asked.

“No, Jonas. Until he was fifteen we called him his name. Then he declared himself No. He thinks it’s cool and refuses to answer to anything else. I think it’s whacked but it’s harmless so I do it. His mother finds it annoying, juvenile and laughable and refuses. She also finds every opportunity to tell him it’s annoying, juvenile and laughable. Luckily, he only has to spend four days a month with her so he can cope with being called his real name that long.”

“This is good,” I muttered. “But don’t you have two kids?”

When I said that, his arms tightened reflexively around me. This move spoke to me though I didn’t know what it was saying. So I lifted my head to look down at him and he didn’t manage to hide the uneasy shadow drifting through his eyes before I caught it.

“Mike?” I prompted.

“Clarisse. My daughter. She’ll be fifteen soon. She was Daddy’s Little Girl until last year. We were tight. All good. She’s entered a phase,” he explained.

“What phase?”

“Not sure,” he murmured then went on. “Secretive. Moody. She fights with her brother most of the time, her mother all the time and me some of the time.”

I knew all about that.

“What does her Mom say?” I asked.

“Audrey and I don’t speak. Her decree. I fought for and got full custody of the kids which meant child support disappeared. She’s struggling and blames me. So I don’t know what she says except through Reesee who informs me her mother’s a bitch. In those words.”

That didn’t sound good.

I stepped in. “Right then, quick education of knowing female to clueless male with teenage daughter. Secretive, moody and argumentative are gonna be your crosses to bear for a while, honey.”

He studied me and he did it closely. I knew what he was thinking and hoped he wouldn’t go there. It was a time I wasn’t proud of and he must have read me because he didn’t go there.

Instead, he asked, “How long of this sentence do I got?”

“She started her period?”

He flinched. I grinned.

Yeah, Daddy’s Little Girl all right. The idea of his baby becoming a woman was not something he liked to think about.

Then he answered, “Yeah.”

“You’re lucky, a year, maybe two. You’re not, you’re lookin’ at at least a nickel.”

“Fuck,” he muttered and my grin got bigger.

Then my grin faded and I whispered, “We snap out of it. Promise.”

His arms separated. One slid up my back. The other slid low on my hips. And they did this while he again studied me closely.

Then he nodded, getting me because he could see that I wasn’t who I used to be but he said quietly, “Hope you’re right.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

He shook his head but stated, “I’m seein’ a lot of her Mom in her. This isn’t good. And I don’t know if I can draw out those demons or if it’s ingrained in her.”

“And those demons would be?” I prompted.

“She wants shit, lots of it. Shit I can’t afford. Shit she doesn’t need. And she’s not happy she can’t have it.”

I tipped my head to the side and suggested carefully, “Child of divorce?”

He shook his head, not in a “no” but in an “I don’t know” and replied, “We’ll see.”

I took one arm from around him, slid it up his chest, his neck to cup his cheek and I shared, “Mom, Dad, Darrin, my headspace was fucked but they never gave up on me. I came out of it, they were there. Not long after, I realized they always were. I never forgot it and that meant the world to me. I don’t know, babe, I don’t have kids but my advice, just don’t give up on her.”

“Wouldn’t do that anyway,” he muttered and I suspected he wouldn’t. His eyes captured mine and he asked, “How long you stayin’?”

“Well, since Debbie’s here for a couple of days, tomorrow I’m having brunch with the family sans my bitchface sister and if I’m happy with their pulse, my plane leaves tomorrow afternoon. I’m not, my plans are up in the air.”

He nodded right before he leaned in, twisted and took me to my back and when he settled, torso on me and hips between my legs, he asked quietly, “Your medium-sized vases sell for two hundred a go, that mean you can afford to get your ass on a plane to visit The ‘Burg frequently?”

My heart skipped and it hadn’t done that in a long time. Beau never made it do that, not even in the beginning. It had been so long, I didn’t know which moron had made it skip last.

But it skipped then. Definitely.

“Yes,” I whispered.

His eyes looked deep in mine.

Then he whispered back, “Good.”

“I’m glad you came to ream my ass and sort my shit out, Mike,” I shared.

He grinned and returned, “Not as glad as me.”

“No, I’m pretty sure I’m more glad.”

His grin turned to a smile and he conceded, “All right, honey, you can be more glad than me.”

“Thanks,” I said quietly.

“Now, you gonna shut up and kiss me or what?”

“Seriously?” I asked. “I think I already explained you’re good with your mouth. Do you think I’m gonna answer ‘or what’?”

“You’re not shutting up,” he informed me.

“Oh,” I whispered. “Right.”

His smile got bigger right before I lifted my head to kiss him.

Mike met me halfway.