Games of the Heart

Chapter Three The Food of Your People

A cell phone ringing woke Mike up.

It wasn’t his ring but he opened his eyes and looked across the empty bed. Dusty and her warm, soft body were gone.

She’d slept snuggled close to him all night. As he usually did, starting when No was born, he woke several times. He did this just to scan the vibe of the house. Sometimes, even if his senses told him nothing was wrong, he’d get up and do a walkthrough. He didn’t do this frequently but he did it. Paranoid, maybe, but he’d seen enough shit, heard a fuckload more, he loved his kids, it didn’t take long and he fell back to sleep easily so he did it.

And habit woke him three times in the night and each time Dusty was pressed close.

She felt good there.

Audrey didn’t press close. She did in the beginning but as things turned bad, he retreated. She got pissy and they ended their relationship with a yard of space between them in their bed. His back turned to her, hers turned to him.

Fuck, their bed itself was an example of the reason why their marriage deteriorated. She’d bought a six thousand dollar bed and very shortly after he’d discovered it couldn’t be returned. So they had a huge-ass bed in which they could have a yard of space between them, her buying that damned bed being why the space was there.

Since he’d got quit of her, he’d taken a number of women to bed but not his bed.

Except for Vi.

He hadn’t even invited any of the women he’d seen to his home. Although some of them he’d seen more than once, one he’d dated for five months. And he’d spent the night at their places but none of them he’d let snuggle him while he slept.

He knew why this was. He was seeking distance. He was keeping them at arm’s length.

Audrey did a number on his head, striking a blow to his ability to trust. Then came Violet who didn’t mean to strike her blow but she did it all the same. This made him wary. He wasn’t going to get too close. Especially not too close too fast.

That was the mistake he made with Vi. He ignored the signs and allowed himself to start falling for her too damned soon. He knew he was in a game of hearts, his opponent her now husband and the father of her youngest daughter, Joe Callahan. Fuck, he even knew he had no hope of winning.

He still went for it anyway.

But that shit stung, losing her. He had her weeks and Audrey years and losing Vi marked him whereas getting quit of Audrey freed him.

So he told himself, not again.

But Dusty was something else. When he woke and found her pressed to him, he didn’t gently roll Dusty away. He left Dusty right where she was.

The phone stopped ringing and he turned in bed. Then he looked through the room seeing nothing. It was early, the room was dark.

Then he looked to the alarm clock.

It was ten after six.

He reached out an arm and turned on the light, his eyes going to the mirrored doors on the closet opposite the bathroom. The door to the bathroom was open, the room dark, no one inside.

He looked to the floor and saw his clothes tangled with Dusty’s jeans, tee and panties and the closed pizza box.

Fuck, it was ten after six. Where was she?

He pushed up in bed, his eyes going to his nightstand and he saw it. A piece of hotel note paper.

He reached out an arm and tagged it.

Bringing it to him, he read:

Gorgeous,

Off to procure the food of your people.

Back soon,

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

-D

He felt his lips curve as he stared at the note.

The food of his people. He hoped she meant Hilligoss donuts.

His eyes moved over the note and he felt his face go soft. This was because he knew she probably dashed it off but still, the fucking thing could be framed. Her penmanship was artistic and interesting. But it was the hugs and kisses with her initial that were stunning. The x’s and o’s were done on a slant with a bunch of flourishes that attached them to the elaborately drawn “-D”.

Staring at the note, he remembered another thing that was Dusty. As a kid, she was always busy. She might hang out in front of the TV but only when people she cared about were hanging out in front of the TV. All other times, she had an abundance of energy and creativity. When she did her chores, she sang and even danced, filling the house with her sweet, pure voice and her exuberant kid happy vibe. She was also often at the kitchen table or on her belly in her bed drawing. Her Mom put these pictures up on the fridge and rightfully bragged about them frequently. Others, Dusty hung on the wall on her side of the bedroom in a way that looked good but appeared haphazard.

Debbie hated it, thought it looked a mess and bitchily said it was a fire hazard when it wasn’t. But Mike, even as a teenage boy, could look at Dusty’s pictures for hours. They were of everything. Flowers, fantastical shit she imagined in her head, landscapes of their farm, sketches of her family and Mike. The detail, the skill, the imagination, it was captivating.

He wasn’t surprised she’d chosen to do something artistic for a living.

He was equally unsurprised she was good at it.

And he was further unsurprised that people spent a fortune on it.

The phone ringing again took him out of his thoughts and his eyes went from the note to Dusty’s cell next to his on the nightstand. He threw the note on the nightstand and picked up her phone, thinking, at this hour, it might be a member of her family.

But on the display there was a picture of a man and it said, “Beau Calling”.

Mike’s neck got tight as he stared at the display. The man was dark-haired and good-looking. He was wearing a beat up denim shirt and beat up jeans. His hands were shoved in his front pockets, his eyes off to the side and he’d been caught laughing.

Jesus. What was this guy doing phoning at that hour? In Texas, where the guy undoubtedly lived considering his clothes in the shot, it was even earlier.

But she’d said she was free and not one thing about Dusty had given Mike the impression she’d lie. In fact, the opposite. He’d never met anyone that was more of a straight shooter.

And Mike liked that a fuckuva lot.

The phone stopped ringing and Mike threw it on the nightstand. It wasn’t his place to answer so he didn’t.

Instead, he threw back the covers, found his boxers and tugged them on. Dusty’s phone beeped with a voicemail while he was pulling on his jeans. He ignored it, went to the bathroom, took care of business, washed his hands, splashed water on his face, wiped it dry and sauntered out.

When he did and he was nearly back to the bed, the phone was ringing again.

He stared at the man’s picture on the display, thought of the time and wondered if there was an emergency. He didn’t know if the first call was from this Beau guy but Mike hadn’t been awake for even ten minutes and, if it was, he’d called three times in that time.

“Fuck,” he muttered, tagged the phone, slid his finger on the screen and put it to his ear. “Hello,” he greeted.

Silence.

“Anyone there?” he asked when this silence stretched.

“Who’s this?” a man’s voice asked back and he sounded ticked.

Fuck.

“You called, man, who’re you?” Mike returned.

“Who I am is the owner of this phone’s man, man,” Beau shot back, definitely ticked. So ticked, he’d gone straight to belligerent.

But Mike was frozen.

“Yo! What the fuck?” Beau asked. “Is Dusty there?”

“No,” Mike forced from between his teeth.

“Where is she at six twenty in the fuckin’ morning?” he demanded to know.

Mike didn’t like his tone and he just simply didn’t like the fact he was talking to Dusty’s man, a man she told him she didn’t have, so he didn’t bother to answer.

Beau didn’t care that Mike didn’t answer.

“Right, you wanna tell me why it’s twenty after six in the fuckin’ mornin’ and you’re answerin’ my woman’s phone?” Beau kept up his interrogation.

“No,” Mike ground out.

“Fuck me,” the man clipped.

“You got a message or did you call just to swear?” Mike asked.

“Yeah, I got a message, man. Tell my woman to call me. Immediately. You got that?”

“Got it,” Mike replied shortly.

Then he got dead air.

He stared at the phone. Then he tossed it to the nightstand instead of hurling it across the room.

Since Audrey, he’d played the field and, taking care around his kids, he’d done this pretty extensively. This was partly due to the fact that Mike was a man. And it was partly due to the fact that the last seven months of his marriage their sex life was non-existent. This was because Mike found he couldn’t stomach fucking a woman who lied to him daily, handed him shit frequently and still had no problem spending his money, as well as money he hadn’t yet earned, freely. It was the last of many times when Audrey turned to him and he felt the nausea roil that he knew he was done. And it was when he set her off him that he told her that, straight out. She had then flown into a rage, screaming and swearing and he knew their kids could hear but, as always with Audrey, he had no choice. No matter how often he told her to shut the fuck up or keep her voice down, she ignored him or got louder and her language got fouler.

At the time, watching her red-faced and infuriated at learning she was bearing the consequences of her own behavior, it became crystal clear Mike’s decision to divorce her ass was the right one.

He’d spent years doing everything he could to sort their shit. At first, young, stupid and in love with her, he’d knocked himself out to get her everything she wanted. But even when he laid it at her feet, she just wanted more. Then he’d done everything he could think to do to find out what drove her to these needs so he could guide her to understanding them and she could work through them. This didn’t work either. No matter how many talks they had, or, in the end, fights, her behavior didn’t change. Often, she promised it would, swore she’d “do better” and she might, for a week, a month. But then she’d lapse right back into it. At the start, she didn’t hide her spending. In the end, she did. How the fuck she thought he wouldn’t figure it out since he paid their bills, they had a joint account and she didn’t work, he had no clue. She just didn’t.

The pressure built. For his part, it built along with his frustration at being in debt and having a wife who lied to him consistently. For Audrey’s part, even though she never admitted it, it had to do with feelings of guilt that mingled with anger at herself that she couldn’t control her addiction.

And since she couldn’t, he got free of her. And, free of her, he enjoyed himself.

Of all the women he enjoyed himself with, Dusty was the one he’d enjoyed the most. Not only in bed, and she was by far the best he’d had since Audrey, before Audrey and including Audrey, but also out of it. Funny, engaging and open, Dusty let it all hang out. She didn’t hide shit. Not her pain. Not her humor. Not her anger at her sister. Not her thoughts about the world.

And he liked that. Too much. And with her being Dusty, their history, the special bond that they had when they were younger that seemed to snap right into place and tighten exponentially nearly the instant they were back together, he let himself be reeled in. Just like Vi who had done the same, straight off the bat giving him that open sharing, having the opposite for years with Audrey, he let himself get caught up in it.

But apparently, unlike Vi, who was going through some serious shit too when he met her, Dusty’s openness was bullshit. She had a night in a hotel room with her family close but her anger at her sister wouldn’t allow her to be with them. He walked right up to her room and gave her an opportunity not to spend that time alone. So she took it and, doing it, used him.

And Jesus, he hadn’t even been with her an entire fucking day and that shit stung too.

“Fuck,” he whispered as he heard the lock click on the door.

He turned and watched her walk in. Her masses of hair was down and tumbling around her shoulders and over her chest. Her face was free of makeup and the pallor he noticed yesterday was gone, her cheeks pink from the cold. She was wearing the black turtleneck from yesterday and the black boots but she’d added the faded jeans. She wasn’t wearing the denim blazer but instead a gray suede jacket that hung long on her hips and had fringe along the arms. Any other woman, fuck, anyone, female or male, wore a suede jacket with fringe, Mike, a small town Indiana man through and through and not a cowboy by a long shot, would find that amusing.

It looked fucking great on Dusty.

She had her black also fringed purse dangling from her shoulder, a big, white baker’s box in her hands and balanced visibly precariously on top were two large, white paper cups he knew by their plastic lids and cardboard sleeves were coffee.

Her eyes hit his, she smiled and said, “Awesome, you’re up.” Then he lost her attention as she moved through the room toward him, eyes on the box she was balancing and she muttered, “Grab the coffees, babe. We do not need tragedy in the form of the genius of Hilligoss consumed without coffee to wash it down.”

She stopped in front of him, he took the cups and tried to calm his temper. The minute he took them, she moved to the bed, put the box on it and then shrugged her bag off her shoulder, turning and tossing the clearly expensive purse carelessly across the bed to the chair.

She did this talking.

“I learned this morning you never lose the sixth sense only those born and raised in The ‘Burg have.” Her gaze came to him and she was grinning, her dark brown eyes dancing as she announced with mock gravity, “The Hilligoss Sense.” She turned away and was shrugging off her coat and ditto with tossing it across the bed to the chair as she continued, “Got there upon opening on a Sunday. Meant I was fifth in line.” She turned back to him, still smiling. “Got my choice of the whole plethora of Hilligoss delights. I bought two dozen. A Hilligoss smorgasbord. Babe, at home, I dream of a white baker’s box filled with Hilligoss goodness. Outside of my family, it’s the best part of coming home.”

“Beau called.”

She blinked at his words. Then her eyes moved over his face.

“Three times,” Mike finished.

Dusty held his eyes.

Then, to his surprise, she shifted so her back was to the bed and she flopped right down on it.

Lifting both her hands to her face, she muttered from behind them, “Fuck. Beau. Clueless. Clue…less! Fuck!”

“Gave me a message,” Mike carried on, walking the coffees to the nightstand and shoving shit aside to put them there. He straightened and concluded, “Says he wants his woman to call him. Immediately.”

Her hands went away from her face and just her head bent up so her eyes could find his.

“He called me his woman?”

“Yep.”

“To you?”

“Yep.”

“And you’re sure he wasn’t talking about, say, some other woman who is absolutely not me.”

“Yep.”

She stared at him.

Then her head fell back as her hands came down hard, her arms and palms slapping the bedclothes.

“That fucking fucker!” she snapped to the ceiling.

Mike stared at her.

It appeared he’d made another erroneous call about Dusty Holliday.

Fuck.

He walked to the bed and entered it, settling on a hip with one hand to her stomach, the other hand in the bed. Looming over her he watched her glare at the ceiling.

“I take it he’s full of shit,” Mike muttered and just her eyeballs rolled to him.

“Yeah, Mike, Beau is full…of…shit.” She paused then snapped loudly, “Shit!”

Then she suddenly knifed up and leaned to the side. Reaching out, she snatched her phone off the nightstand. Then she sat back and Mike fell to a forearm as he watched her finger sliding and jabbing on the screen of her phone.

She put it to her ear, waited as she crossed her legs then irritably started bouncing a cowboy-booted foot and within seconds began talking.

Or, more to the point, hissing.

“Are you fucking nuts?” Pause then, “No, Beau, don’t answer that. I know you are. First, my brother is dead, it isn’t even seven in the morning my time, in Texas it’s earlier and you’re phoning me?” This ended in a question but she didn’t give him time to answer before she continued sarcastically. “You think, maybe, if I’m sleeping, I might want to sleep instead of getting a phone call from my ex-boyfriend who didn’t catch the big, honkin’ clue I shot his way when I kicked his ass out that we…are…over?” Again, she didn’t wait for a reply, she kept going. “And second, we’re over! For the last time stop calling me!”

Then she took the phone from her ear, jabbed her finger at the screen, hit a button on the side then twisted her torso and tossed it over Mike to the chair. It bounced on her clothes and bag and settled.

She flopped to her back in front of him again, her body bouncing too before it settled.

Then she grumbled, “He ruined Hilligoss goodness shared with a hot guy.”

Mike couldn’t help it. Five minutes before, he was pissed and convinced he’d been played.

Right then, he thought she was fucking hilarious.

So he burst out laughing.

When he was done and looked down at her, she surprised him again. This was because she no longer appeared pissed, she was grinning.

“So I take it you and that guy are over,” Mike drawled and then he got to watch as Dusty burst out laughing.

Fuck, her laughter was as musical as her voice. He’d forgotten that too. Until last night when he got that gift back. And just like everything about her, with maturity, it had gotten a fuckuva lot better.

He settled his hand on her stomach again, felt it tremble with her laughter and watched her hilarity play out, enjoying every second.

Still chuckling, her eyes came to him and she confirmed, “Yeah, babe, Beau and me are over.”

This was good news.

But what went down that morning was not and he wasn’t thinking about his again jumping to conclusions but Beau whoever-the-fuck acting like a psycho.

“Do I need to be worried about this?” he asked quietly and, with regret, watched the humor die from her eyes.

“I wanna say no,” she answered just as quietly. “But, it kills me, this shit this morning, he called yesterday and asked if I wanted him to come up to be with me…I’m not getting a good feeling.”

Mike wasn’t either.

She got up on her elbows and gave him her entire focus which included her openness.

“We were together a while, two and a half years. Part of that, he was moved in with me. It went bad a while ago. I’m not getting any younger, I want kids and in the beginning, it was good. I fought for it. Beau’s clueless and he didn’t. I kicked him out four months ago. That woke his shit up but it was too late. It was just over and I was moving on. I wasn’t going back. I’m not going back. He’s not getting that. He can be stubborn and I know he cares about me so, at first, it was just a nuisance. Now, it’s getting a little crazy.” Her gaze drifted to her phone. “And this morning, whacked.” Her eyes came back to him. “He really told you I was his woman?”

“Pissed I answered the phone. Didn’t hide it. Told me he was your man and you were his woman. So yeah, he made it clear in a thirty second conversation and he did it three times.”

Her eyes went unfocused and she whispered, “Damn.”

Mike’s hand pressed lightly into her stomach and her eyes refocused.

“He called three times,” he explained. “Three times in less than ten minutes. I wouldn’t have answered, honey, but I was worried it was an emergency.”

Her eyes held his but they went soft and unbelievably fucking sweet when she said something that felt unbelievably good to hear.

“I get that you think I care you answered my phone, babe, but I don’t. Got nothing to hide. Just sorry he fed you that bullshit.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he told her and her fast grin came back.

“Did it all the same,” she replied.

Mike moved his hand to the side of her neck as he leaned into her, giving her some of his weight and taking her off her elbows. The instant his weight settled on her, her arms wrapped around him.

“Don’t know it all but this doesn’t seem like healthy behavior,” Mike warned carefully.

“I’m thinking I agree but I’ll be okay,” she assured but Mike didn’t feel assured.

She was confident, that was clear. She was honest and had no problem speaking her mind, even in a confrontation. That was clear too. But she was also a single, five foot six woman. She was not skinny. She had a great ass, great tits and they were abundant in a good way. What they weren’t was packed with power.

So he started, “Dusty –”

He stopped when her arms gave him a squeeze.

“I’m tight with a local cop, Mike,” she told him softly and grinned again. “He’s an anomaly. Married to one of my girls, a good guy who got himself a decent woman. He knows Beau. I get home, I’ll go to their house, have a chat. Give him a heads up. Knowing Hunter, he’ll take some time, find Beau, have a quiet word.” Her arms gave him another squeeze. “That doesn’t work, again, knowing Hunter, he’ll round up a few of his buddies and have another one that’ll be harder to ignore. It’s okay, honey. I’m good.”

Listening to her calm, warm sincerity, speaking about her friends, Mike was pleased and displeased.

He was pleased she had someone she trusted to take her back. He was pleased she had friends she clearly cared about. Just like last night he was pleased to hear her talk about what she did, how much she loved it. She was easy to read. She had a good life she enjoyed living.

But he was displeased she had friends she cared about she trusted to take her back and a good life she enjoyed living.

Because all this was in a small town outside San Antonio.

Twice, he’d assumed wrongly about Dusty. Twice, she proved she was just who she was.

With what happened with Audrey and Vi, he kept reading it wrong and Dusty kept proving she was just who she appeared to be.

It was very early. He was cautious. But that didn’t mean he didn’t like this.

He did. He liked it. What they had. The easiness of it.

What he didn’t like was that they had this morning and then she was gone. Which meant the future of it was up in the air in all new ways.

He had two kids to raise and put through college. Still, he could swing a trip to Texas once, maybe twice a year. He’d been working for The ‘Burg’s Police Department since he graduated the Academy the year after he graduated from Purdue. This meant he’d earned a shitload of vacation. So he had the time, time that wouldn’t cut into his vacations with No and Reesee.

Dusty made her own pottery and was self-employed so she could make time too.

But, this shit worked, there would come a time when he wouldn’t want her going to bed in Texas while he hit the sack in The ‘Burg. And he knew that because his gut was already tight knowing she was going. So, if this went the distance, that time could be soon. And even wary, in less than a day, Dusty had passed test after test so everything was pointing to the fact this could go the distance.

And when it did, one of them would have to give up home. That wasn’t a possibility for Mike. Not for three years. Not until Reesee was in college.

Which meant, they wanted to make a go of it, Dusty would have to up stakes and come home. Home to a place she escaped as soon as she could after graduating high school.

And he didn’t know if she’d be willing to do that.

He’d had a woman not willing to make an important sacrifice to keep them together. And Audrey’s refusal to do so was whacked. Dusty’s would be justified. He didn’t need to be walking, eyes open, into the same fucking thing.

“Hey, gorgeous,” she called softly, her hand lighting on his neck, her thumb moving out to stroke his jaw and his eyes refocused on her. When they did, she asked, “Was it a nice trip?”

He had no clue what she was talking about.

“Pardon?”

“You were miles away, honey.”

He was.

“I’ll be okay,” she assured reading his mood incorrectly. “Hunter is a good guy. You want, I’ll give you his phone number. You can talk to him. See for yourself.”

He stared down at her.

Christ, totally open. One hundred percent.

Still, he took her up on her offer.

“Yeah, I want that.”

She grinned. “Done.” Then she went on, “Best part, you give a shit.” Her head tipped to the side on the mattress and her thumb did a sweep of his jaw as she finished quietly, “Like that, babe.”

Again he stared down at her. Her hair fanned out on the bed. That pink in her cheeks. That soft look on her face.

Fuck, he needed to fuck her. Immediately.

“How set are you on eatin’ those donuts, sweetheart?”

Her eyes flared in that way he felt in his dick. He’d learned last night they did that same exact thing frequently when he had his hands on her, his dick moving inside her. And that flare turned to a blaze seconds before he made her come.

“If you’re offering to help me work up an appetite, since I’m supposed to meet my folks at Frank’s at eleven and I also want to enjoy Frank’s Indiana-wide Famous Pancakes, then the donut orgy can wait. That said, clearly you’ve got your work cut out for you,” she replied.

“A challenge,” he muttered, moving his hands on her and feeling the sexy way her body shifted under him, telling him nonverbally she liked his hands on her.

“You up to it?”

His eyes held hers even as his lips went to her lips.

“Let’s see,” he whispered.

“Awesome,” she whispered back.

His head slanted, hers tilted and Mike set about besting the challenge.

“Hungry?” Mike asked then watched the woman in his arms burst out laughing.

They were outside standing by her rental car. Or, more to the point, he had her pinned against it.

He’d fucked her before donuts. Then they’d eaten donuts and drank cold coffee. Then, with the water pouring down on them, Dusty on her knees in the tub, her fingers wrapped around his hips, she’d very nearly sucked him off before he pulled her up to fuck her in the shower. Out of the shower, she dried her hair and did her makeup after inviting Mike to scroll through her phone and find Hunter’s number. He’d dressed, taken her up on the invitation and programmed it into his phone in order to call her friend later. Then he’d stood in the doorway to the bathroom while she bent over the counter, her sweet ass pointed out, and did her makeup as he programmed all her numbers (cell, home, the “shed” where she made her pieces and gallery) into his phone and he’d programmed his into hers.

When she was done getting ready, they’d made out in bed, going at it like teenagers but before it got too heated, since the time was nigh, he’d stopped it.

They’d made plans. If she was staying, he was at her hotel room to spend the afternoon with her before he had to get home before seven when his kids returned from Audrey’s. If she wasn’t staying, he was following her in her rental to the airport, driving her from the rental place to the terminal and taking her to check in. Then she’d call when she got home. She’d also call when she figured out when she could come back.

Then they pulled on their coats and he walked her out to her car.

Which brought him to now, holding a beautiful woman in his arms and watching her laugh.

She thought he was a good guy but there were occasions in his life where he’d acted like a dick and knew it. None of them he was proud of.

But he sure as fuck was glad he’d done it the day before.

She sobered but, still chuckling, answered, “Famished.”

“Excellent,” he muttered on a squeeze of his arms and she kept chuckling.

Then her amusement faded, her eyes grew intense and she pressed closer, getting up on her toes, her arms around his shoulders going tighter.

“Sucks,” she whispered. “Totally. Thought it sucked before because I want to be with my family. Totally sucks now.”

He knew what she was talking about. She’d told him she had to get home because there was some gallery showing of her work in Austin next week. She was still preparing. Darrin’s death, as deaths always did, came at a shit time.

He bent his head and touched his lips to hers, saying after he lifted away, “Go and be with your family.”

She nodded.

“Text me or phone me,” he ordered.

She nodded again.

“Now kiss me,” he finished, her eyes flared in that way he liked so fucking much, she pressed deeper and did as she was told.

He took over, lost control and they went at it like teenagers, out in the cold, Mike pressing a beautiful woman against the side of a rental car in the parking lot of a hotel in his hometown.

Then he tore his mouth away, kissed her forehead, opened her door, deposited her ass in the driver’s seat and stood, arms crossed on his chest, eyes glued to her car watching her hand moving from between the seats in a wave as she drove away.

He did this grinning.

Debbie Holliday sat in her rental car staring at the couple who had been standing in each other’s arms talking then the woman was laughing then they were making out.

As in making out.

In other words, going…fucking…at it.

Her sister and her ex-fucking-boyfriend.

“Seriously?” she asked the interior of her car, her voice vibrating with fury. “Seriously?” she hissed.

She’d come by before her conference call to make peace. Her mother had spilled last night that Dusty was in town. She knew this because Mike already told her. She didn’t know the whole fucking family knew all about it.

Right after her mother told her, her father gave her a lecture that he’d lost a son, his wife had too and both his girls had lost their brother. They didn’t need discord. They needed harmony.

It sucked but Dad was right. So Debbie bit the bullet and decided, unlike her little fucking sister who’d holed up in a hotel room and hidden, to do the right thing. Olive branch. Make peace. Give Mom, Dad, fucking Rhonda (who wouldn’t even know, she spent so much time sniveling) and the boys time with all the family together.

And doing the right thing, this was what she got.

Darrin was dead and somehow her little fucking sister was banging her ex-boyfriend and standing out in the parking lot fucking laughing.

Debbie hated it that all her life, even when Dusty went off the rails and exposed the bitch within, that her Mom sang her sister’s praises. “Look at this,” she’d crow, pointing at some bullshit Dusty had scribbled with a crayon like it was Picasso who had held that freaking crayon. “Listen to her, she sounds like an angel,” Mom would whisper reverently anytime Dusty had a solo in church or at the high school.

And Debbie hated it that all her life her Dad would grouse good-naturedly, “My Dusty-girl, such a rascal,” when Dusty would do something sassy or be what everyone but Debbie thought was adorably mouthy. And she hated it when Dad took Dusty and Darrin out to walk through the rows of corn and share his farmer wisdom. “My boy will carry the legacy, but even if he doesn’t, my girl will,” he’d boasted only for Dusty to take off like a shot after high school, proving him wrong. Did he care? No. Instead, years later, he’d brag about her fucking pottery like she didn’t make big, over-priced plates but like she cured fucking cancer.

Did either of them brag about the fact that Debbie made six figures, won the DC Woman in Law award twice and was asked to lecture all over the fucking country? No. All she got from Mom was, “Uh…honey, are you sure he didn’t do it?” when she’d defended that (alleged) rapist who was all over the papers. Admittedly, she had serious suspicions he did do it but she couldn’t share that and it didn’t matter anyway. All she could say was, “Everyone’s entitled to a defense, Mom.” To which her mother mumbled, “All right, Debbie.” And to which her father, much later when they were all in The ‘Burg visiting, said under his breath when he thought she couldn’t hear, “Yeah, entitled as long as they can pay the bills and that guy was a millionaire who thought his shit didn’t stink and he could do anything. Guess Debbie proved that right.” This after they’d talked, or she did, since Darrin, Rhonda, Dad and Mom didn’t say a word, about how she got him off.

And Debbie hated it all her life that Darrin took Dusty’s side all the time. “She’s our little sis, Deb, we gotta look out for her,” Darrin would say but he was full of shit. He, just like everybody, thought the sun shone out of Dusty’s ass. They grew older, Debbie had to watch as her brother and sister grew even tighter. She knew Darrin and Dusty talked all the time. She knew his kids preferred their Aunt Dusty’s presents and her company. She knew that half the times Darrin called Dusty or Dusty called Darrin, Rhonda would get on the phone and jabber Dusty’s ear off about some stupid fucking shit.

It didn’t occur to Debbie that Darrin had tried the same with her the minute she went to Notre Dame and kept trying it even through law school. It didn’t occur to her that she blew him off because she was busy studying or she had better shit to do so he stopped.

All she knew was Dusty and Darrin Holliday were closer than close, tighter than tight and that just grew deeper as they grew older and, as ever, Debbie had no part of it.

Staring at Mike staring after Dusty’s car driving away, Debbie Holliday decided this was it. She was done. This was the end.

Because fucking Dusty had pulled her bullshit antics over two fucking decades before, cozying up to Mike, getting in his face, getting in both their space and Mike was a good guy. But Debbie knew he wasn’t putting up with her little sister because he was a good guy. He was putting up with her sister because, just like everybody, he fell for her shit.

And Debbie hated it way back when and, seeing what she’d just seen, she seriously fucking hated it now.

Debbie Holliday wasn’t stupid. She knew Mike Haines was the best thing she’d ever had. She knew it then and she gave it up because she wanted out of that nowhere town. But Mike made it clear, even back in high school, he was a small town guy, he was a hometown guy and he wasn’t going anywhere. So he broke it off and she let him, giving him up to get what she wanted.

And Dusty, just like fucking Dusty, slid right in to take away what was Debbie’s. It might have taken her twenty years but she did it.

And she used Darrin’s death to do it too.

What a bitch.

And Mike, God, she thought, years ago, he’d seen through Dusty’s bullshit when she went all grunge or goth or whatever the fuck it was. But, apparently, just like everyone else, she’d pulled the wool right over his eyes. Fuck, a cop, and he still didn’t see.

Debbie understood, rationally, that she had no intention of going there. Yes, if Mike had walked through the door she opened the day before, she would have been at his house like a shot to enjoy him and that tall, delicious body of his so she could forget all the shit swirling around her. Hell, he’d been a fantastic lover even as a teenager. Maybe not in the beginning but, seriously, even as a boy-man, he learned quick how to use his mouth, his hands and better parts of his body. And even as a boy-man he was driven to make sure she got something out of it too. Again, maybe not in the beginning, but he learned that quickly too and she let him. If he’d walked through that door yesterday, she knew nothing could come of it. She was going back to DC and she’d never, ever call The ‘Burg home again.

But that didn’t mean he was open to Dusty.

Debbie sat in her parked car and watched Mike walk to his dark blue Chevy Equinox vaguely thinking he needed to trade up. She didn’t know cars very well but it appeared his was at least two years old. She thought this as she thought not so vaguely that he’d never lost that sexy as fuck loose-limbed, masculine grace he’d had since high school.

Then she watched him swing in.

Then she watched him drive away.

Then she sat in her car, seething.

Her little sister.

Her fucking little sister.

Jesus, some things never changed.

Even the shit that should.

She switched on the ignition and drove back to her childhood home that she knew was now empty because her family was having brunch with her fucking little sister and she did this to take her Sunday conference call.

Mike pulled the Frisbee from his golden retriever, Layla’s mouth and set it to flying.

She ran after it, her paws crunching through the soft white blanket of flakes, sending out tufts of snow.

It was fucking freezing but his backyard was the size of a postage stamp and his dog needed room to run. So he’d taken Layla to Arbuckle Acres Park. He knew she didn’t feel a thing except extreme excitement Dad was taking her on an outing and bringing the Frisbee with him.

With a gloved hand, he reached into his back jeans pocket and pulled out his phone. Layla came back with the Frisbee, waited until his fingers were curled around it then let it go.

Mike let it fly.

She ran and he scrolled down to Hunter Rivera’s name in his phonebook and hit go.

It rang twice then, “Rivera.”

“Hunter Rivera?” Mike asked.

“You got me.”

“You don’t know me. I’m Mike Haines. I’m a friend of Dusty Holliday and a lieutenant at Brownsburg Police Department. Everything is cool with Dusty but she gave me your number because we need to chat.”

“Let me guess. Beau showed at the memorial service and got down on bended knee, offering Dusty an engagement ring in front of her brother’s casket.”

Mike didn’t try to stop his chuckle.

He liked Rivera already.

“Not quite,” he answered.

“Am I warm?” Rivera returned.

“Yeah,” Mike replied. “She’s getting a lot of phone calls.”

He listened to Rivera sigh but heard his voice was alert when he asked, “How many?”

“One yesterday offering to come up and help her with her grief. Three this morning before six thirty. She was out gettin’ donuts and he threw attitude when I picked up and bald-faced lied she was his woman. She lost her mind when she heard, called him and threw a shit hemorrhage but shared with me she’s beginning to get concerned.”

This was met with silence.

“Rivera?” he called.

“Out gettin’ donuts?” Rivera asked.

Fuck.

Before he could reply, Rivera whispered, “Jesus, fuck, shit. Mike. You say your name is Mike? From Brownsburg?”

Mike felt his gut get tight and the feeling didn’t suck. Not even a little bit.

She’d talked about him to her friends.

He hadn’t seen her in over twenty years and she’d talked about him to friends.

“Yeah,” Mike replied. “Mike Haines.”

He heard a whistle.

Then he heard, “Right, dude, I don’t got a vagina so I don’t belong to the club and, lucky for me, that means I can’t get kicked out for tellin’ you this shit but Dusty, she talks about you. I try not to get involved when the tequila appears and Jerra breaks out the margarita glasses because at those times, anything goes and it can get hairy. But that don’t mean I can turn off my ears and the shit I heard is good. I tell my woman you two hooked up, you’re gonna hear her screamin’ all the way from Texas.”

His gut tightened further and he was right. It didn’t suck. Not even a little bit.

“She’s gettin’ donuts, that mean she hooked up with you?” Rivera pressed.

“How ‘bout I let Dusty talk to your woman about that,” Mike poorly evaded.

He knew it was poorly when Rivera muttered, “You two hooked up. Shit, fuck. Awesome.” Then he stopped muttering when he asked, “Please tell me you’re an ex-assassin, current professional wrestler and you’re makin’ plans to come down here and kick Beau LeBrec’s ass.”

Mike grinned, tagged the Frisbee from Layla’s mouth again and let fly, replying, “Unfortunately, no. I’m just a cop. But that needs to be done, I’m on-call to do it.”

Rivera was back to muttering when he said, “Right, well, seein’ as this ain’t your jurisdiction I probably should take the first crack at that asshole.”

“I take it from your understanding of the situation you’ve had concerns,” Mike guessed what he knew was accurately.

Rivera confirmed his guess. “Dusty says she can handle it and he’ll move on. I went to high school with Beau. The dude looks good, knows it, thinks he’s got the ladies eatin’ outta his hands. Can’t say, ‘til Dusty, he was wrong. Had his pick, loved ‘em and left ‘em. He fell hard for Dusty but learned through years of gettin’ what he wanted just by flashin’ a smile, he could serve up shit and they’d eat it. Dusty Holliday doesn’t eat shit. She showed patience in tryin’ to teach that old dog a new trick. He refused to learn so she got shot of his ass. He’s the heartbreaker, doesn’t know any different. Again, a new trick Dusty’s tryin’ to teach him. He just ain’t willin’ to learn.”

This didn’t sound good and the tightening in his gut started not to feel so hot. Vi had had a fuckwad stalker after her. Vi’s, unfortunately, was a criminal mastermind who also happened to be a psychopath with resources. Lightning didn’t strike twice so it was doubtful LeBrec was that caliber of nutjob. Still, Mike didn’t need this shit. Dusty, living alone over a thousand miles away with a newly dead brother, a business to run and a gallery show coming up needed it less.

“’Spect you got some idea of how to offer that lesson so it sinks in,” Mike replied.

“Got a couple I’m willin’ to investigate.”

“Well you just got the greenlight and that’s not comin’ from me. Dusty may or may not be home tonight. Either way, it’s clear from both you and her you’re tight so I’d appreciate it if you saw to LeBrec without delay. And Dusty’s holdin’ on but losin’ Darrin is gonna take some gettin’ used to so your woman is up too.”

“Gotcha,” Rivera murmured then said less quietly, “Payback is you FedEx some ‘a those donuts she’s always on about.”

Dusty talked about him. Twenty years, she didn’t forget their bond and talked to her girl about him along with Hilligoss.

Good company.

“Can’t, man, you gotta get ‘em fresh from the rack. You come up here, they’re on me,” Mike offered.

“Deal” Rivera replied. “You cool with me storin’ your number?”

This meant checking in.

“Absolutely.”

“Right.” Rivera said and Mike could hear his smile so he knew Rivera got where he was at. “So, she had a crush on you when she was a kid and you were nailin’ her sister. How’d you feel about little Dusty?”

“In the last thirty seconds, you form a vagina?” Mike returned and heard Rivera’s loud burst of hearty laughter.

He just didn’t want to talk. No offense meant, none taken.

Yeah, he liked this guy.

Rivera quit laughing and started talking. “Solid, you had one day with our girl and Dusty’s out gettin’ you donuts. I drag my woman up there, you gotta tell me how I can get her ass outta bed to get me donuts. It’s always me draggin’ my carcass to the bakery Sunday mornin’.”

“She snuck out while I was sleeping or no way she’d be out in the cold at six o’clock in the morning.”

“I hear you, brother,” Rivera said quietly.

Yep. Definitely liked this guy.

“You’ll keep me in the loop?” Mike asked.

“You got it. I’ll have my word with Beau and I’ll have a word with a coupla my boys. We’ll keep an eye on our girl.”

“Appreciated,” Mike muttered.

“No problems…and, Mike?”

“Yeah?”

“Be cool, we meet you soon.”

He knew what that meant.

So he remarked, “Figure I better put in earplugs in preparation for the scream.”

“Yeah, I might not have a vagina but this shit’s too good not to share. Also it’ll put Jerra in a certain mood. Sorry, bro, but a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do to get him some on a Sunday.”

Mike smiled down at Layla who’d dropped the Frisbee at his feet and had her ass in the snow, long tail sweeping the blanket of white behind her, head tipped back, tongue lolling, not so patiently waiting.

“Knock yourself out,” Mike muttered.

“Cool. Later Mike.”

“Later.”

Mike hit the button on the phone, bent, retrieved the Frisbee and let fly before he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

And he did this still smiling.

“Waking up next to you. The smell of Hilligoss. Being number five in line. Going back to you. Morning nookie with you. Shower with you. Jerra calling me and cracking my shit up because Hunter spilled about you and me and she was so excited she said two thousand, seven hundred and fifty-two words in the expanse of sixty seconds and that’s it.”

Standing outside security at Indianapolis International Airport, holding Dusty in his arms and not wanting to let her go, Mike was not following.

“Pardon?”

“Counting my blessings, babe.”

He grinned down at her.

“I could count the reasons I want to commit murder, and, for your information, officer, this urge only threatens to overwhelm me when my sister is involved, but her getting up in my shit about you is the one and only reason.”

Mike stopped grinning.

Mike got the call that Dusty was heading out. Mr. and Mrs. Holliday were concerned about Rhonda and the boys so, although they’d planned to stay for another week, they’d taken Dusty aside to have a private word after brunch. They’d then told her they were going to stretch that week into two. Maybe three. They knew Dusty had her thing happening and they had her back. They also wanted to be there for Rhonda, Finley and Kirby.

So she was going.

But when she went back to the hotel to pack and call him, Debbie had been waiting for her. Debbie had shared she’d seen them together in the parking lot, she’d lost her mind and laid into Dusty. Dusty laid in right back. They had a screaming match that brought the hotel manager to the room. Debbie stormed out. Dusty called Mike, shared this information then waited until he arrived and checked out.

The good news about this was that Debbie had not done this in front of the family and inferred during the fight that she didn’t intend to share, “You fucked my ex-boyfriend while Darrin is still fresh in his grave,” because it would, “Just break Mom’s heart.”

With Dusty going, Debbie knowing about them and being on a tear about it, that was the only good news there was.

When he’d told her about his call, Dusty, being what he was learning was Dusty, didn’t give a shit that Rivera put one and one together and got the budding couple that was Mike and Dusty.

She’d just grinned and said, “So she knows about five hours before she would have known. No skin off my nose.”

Mike had to admit, after Audrey’s unrelenting bullshit and Vi’s unrelenting but unintentional drama, the laidback Dusty was a breath of seriously fucking fresh air.

“Debbie’ll get home, get involved in her life and cool down,” Mike told her. “It’ll all be good.”

“Debbie’ll carry this shit to her grave,” Dusty muttered then winced because she herself had struck close to the bone.

“Honey,” he whispered.

She sighed.

Then she said, “I’ll leave it a week. Give her a call. Try to smooth things over.”

“Maybe you two should just figure out how to be family at the same time avoiding each other,” Mike suggested.

“Uh…do you know my Mom and Dad?” Dusty asked, Mike grinned and gave her a squeeze.

“Yeah, I do. But they don’t have to live her bullshit. You do. She’s a successful attorney. She’s gotta know how to broker a deal. Find a way to make it so you two are kosher in front of the parents but you keep strictly to your corners all other times. She’ll see the advantages of a deal like that and go all in.”

“I’m not sure family works like that,” she muttered. “But I’ll give it a try.”

Truthfully, Mike wasn’t sure either. He was an only child. His Mom and Dad were functional. Good, solid parents he loved and respected who gave him a working moral compass and a decent upbringing. Great grandparents who doted on their grandchildren in a way that only skated the edges of spoiling them rotten. They had his back through the divorce with Audrey and they had his back when he fought for full custody but they didn’t have it in a way they were in his face. He just knew they had it which was all they needed to do. His family didn’t have dramas. Just lots of love and good times.

And, with the shit Dusty told him that came out of Debbie’s mouth, it was clear Debbie had cast herself firmly in the role of the black sheep of the Holliday family. This included a variety of imaginary slights and insults most of which she figured were delivered by Dusty all because Dusty was being Dusty.

It didn’t take a family psychologist to study the Hollidays and see that Debbie’s career drive was her being hell-bent to earn the respect of her family. Or she was simply different than them but instead of just finding herself and going on to find happiness, she wanted it all and was pissed they wouldn’t shoehorn her into their world where she simply didn’t fit.

Mike was thinking the latter. The last twenty-four hours he’d spent more time with Dusty than Debbie since he broke up with her two and a half decades ago. But she’d been his girlfriend for two years. What Debbie Holliday wanted, she found a way to get and she was perfectly willing to expend a goodly amount of energy and her considerable brainpower conniving a way to get it.

Frankly, in the end, he couldn’t wait to get quit of her but he’d never told that shit to anyone. Before he hooked up with Debbie, Darrin was a friend and remained a friend after their breakup. He respected the Hollidays too much to talk trash about their daughter. And then there was Dusty.

“Right,” Dusty broke into his thoughts, “I gotta go take off my shoes and prepare to be strip searched because I’m a blonde and they’ll need to use someone to prove they aren’t racial profiling and it’s my luck they always use me.”

Mike grinned down at her even as his arms got tighter.

Then his grin died as his eyes moved over her face.

Fuck, she was beautiful.

“I’ll call,” she whispered and his eyes came back to hers to see hers weren’t smiling anymore. The light was gone but the warmth, as ever, remained.

“I will too.”

“I’ll fix another visit home soon,” she promised.

“Good,” he muttered.

“Hunter will take care of me,” she went on and his arms got tighter.

“I know.”

She stopped talking but didn’t move. She stayed pressed tight to him, her arms wrapped around his back.

Then a smile curved her lips she didn’t commit to and she remarked, “Seriously, glad you’re a dick, babe.”

He smiled back the same way and whispered, “Me too.”

Dusty tipped her head to the side and asked, “You gonna order me to kiss you so I can get all tingly or are you just gonna stare at me?”

He knew his smile hit his eyes when he muttered, “Kiss me, honey.”

Her arms moved from his back to wrap around his neck, she got up on her toes and did what she was told. He took over and they went at it like teenagers.

He pulled away first and whispered, “Go.”

She nodded, eyes bright and he fucking loved that, how she let it show she didn’t want to go.

Then she broke away and walked to the security line.

He watched her show her tickets. He watched her take off her belt, coat and shoes. He watched her go through the metal detector. And he grinned when he saw them pull her from the line to have a female pat her down. When they turned her to do her back, she caught his eyes, rolled hers and Mike started chuckling.

Then he watched her put on her shoes, belt and coat and start to walk down the terminal.

And he watched her when she stopped, turned back and threw him a kiss. It was a grand gesture, dramatic, attention-getting but she didn’t give a fuck anyone was watching. It was all for him.

Then she smiled huge, lifted her arm and waved hard.

He lifted a hand and flicked out his fingers.

Then he watched her turn and walk away until he couldn’t see her anymore.

Then he turned and walked away thinking, fuck me, forty-three years of life, I finally find The One, I’ve known her for two and a half decades and when we finally connect, she lives in fucking Texas.

He was belting himself in his SUV when his phone at his ass rang. He pulled it out, looked at the display, grinned, hit the button and put it to his ear.

“Angel,” he muttered.

“Told you I’d call,” Dusty replied.

Mike burst out laughing.

Clarisse walked out of her room to go to the kitchen to get some chips.

On bare feet, she walked down the carpeted halls but stopped dead when she heard her Dad’s voice sounding funny talking on the phone.

“You home safe, Angel?”

Angel?

Who was Angel?

“Good,” Clarisse heard her Dad say softly. “What?” he went on. “Yeah. They’re home. Got home about fifteen minutes ago. You settled in?” A pause then another weird, soft, “Good.” Silence for a while then a slightly surprised, “You’re gonna work now?” Pause then, “What time is it there?” Another pause then, “You do that a lot?” Pause then a low chuckle and, “It clears out your head, darlin’, then do it.” There was some silence before more soft chuckles then, “You come back, you do that, honey. But I’ll expect you to bring a large-sized vase, not try to fork some of that medium shit on me.”

That was so her Dad. He got ticked when she cursed but she heard him do it all the time when he didn’t think she was listening.

Her ears pricked up when he kept talking.

“In a bit, gotta help No with his homework. You want, I’ll call you later.” Pause then low, soft and really weird, “That’s a definite plan, sweetheart.”

“Jesus, Rees, you eavesdroppin’ on Dad?”

Clarisse whirled and saw her brother standing behind her staring at her like he always stared at her. Like she’d been beamed there from a different planet.

She narrowed her eyes, put one finger to her lips and with her other hand in his chest she shoved him down the hall, turning him into his room. Once she got him inside, she closed the door behind her.

Then she turned back to her brother and hissed, “I think Dad is talkin’ to a woman.”

No blinked at her.

Then he asked, “So?”

“So?” Clarisse asked back.

“Yeah? So?” No mostly repeated.

“Dad’s talkin’ to a woman!” she exclaimed but quietly.

“Uh…he is a single guy,” No informed her of something she already knew.

“So?” she shot back.

“So, Rees. Shit. Seriously? You think he’ll be cool spendin’ the rest of his life with you and Scary Movie Friday Night until you get married or something? I mean, he’s a guy. Girls at school say he’s a hottie. Hotties nail babes. It’s the way of the world.”

Clarisse’s torso swung back and suddenly her mouth tasted funny and not in a good way.

No grinned. “I hope he’s gettin’ himself some.”

Clarisse leaned forward and hissed, “Don’t be gross.”

No crossed his arms on his chest and his grin got bigger.

“You know, Dad nailin’ Mom is how they got me and you.”

“Ick! Don’t be gross!”

“It’s true.”

“I know it’s true, No. That doesn’t mean we have to talk about it.”

“Bet Mom’s shit in bed. All bitchy and uptight,” No muttered and Clarisse didn’t know a lot about these things but she still reckoned this was true. This was because their Mom was bitchy and uptight.

Then a thought occurred to her.

“What if this woman Dad’s talkin’ to is bitchy and uptight?”

No shook his head. “No way. Dad is not stupid.”

“He picked Mom,” Clarisse pointed out.

“This is true,” No muttered then stated, “Still, he dated Keira Winters’s Mom before she got married to Mr. Callahan and I’ve met her. She’s totally cool.”

It was Clarisse’s turn to blink before she whispered, “What?”

“Dad dated Mrs. Callahan before she was Mrs. Callahan.”

“He did not.”

“He so did.”

She couldn’t believe this.

“How do you know that?”

No shrugged. “Dylan saw them together at Frank’s. Told me. I thought it was cool. She’s a Mom but she’s still pretty. And she’s gotta be cool because Keira’s totally cool. Not to mention, she nailed down The Lone Wolf and made him a family man and everyone knew that was impossible. Dad bein’ in there before Mr. Callahan is also totally cool.”

Clarisse stared at her brother.

Unfortunately, he kept talking.

“And Brittany’s Mom is single now that her Dad took off with his secretary and lives in Atlanta. And Brittany’s friend Kayla told me Brittany heard her Mom tellin’ her friend she would kill to date Dad. Says she goes to J&J’s all the time just to see if she can catch his eye.”

“That’s crazy,” Clarisse breathed and No stared at her.

“It isn’t crazy, Reesee,” he said quietly. “Half the single Moms in town go to high school basketball games and it isn’t because their sons are playing. They don’t have sons playing. It’s because Dad never misses a game.”

She leaned in deep and hissed, “That’s crazy.”

“Rees, it’s true. Totally. He’s a guy. He’s single. He’s tall. Trust me, girls like tall guys, I know this for a fact. And Dad’s tall. And girls tell me he’s hot.” He grinned and finished, “I wouldn’t know, seein’ as I’m a guy but I look like him and I’m smokin’ hot so he’s gotta be hot.”

Clarisse didn’t reply. This was mostly because she was a girl and so, even though it was gross, it wasn’t lost on her that both her brother and her Dad were hot. And even if it could be lost on her, all her friends telling her how hot her brother was all the time would mean it wouldn’t be for long. And No was right, he looked a lot like Dad.

“Anyway,” No muttered, moving toward his guitar, “I hope he’s talkin’ to a woman. It was fucked up, the way it used to be. Mom always screamin’. Dad always pissed. His mouth always that weird tight ‘cause he was tryin’ to keep that crap from us. And now we’re not around much and he’s alone a lot. Be cool he wasn’t alone but instead with some babe who didn’t make his mouth that weird tight.” He picked up his guitar, sat on his bed and put it on his thighs before finishing, “And, if he’s got a hot babe, Dad won’t be up in our shit so much.”

At any other time, Clarisse would agree with this final statement.

Their Mom didn’t give much of a shit. Their Dad did, like, a lot, and sometimes it could be annoying.

But maybe some “hot babe” wouldn’t like her Dad spending Friday night with Clarisse and ice cream and scary movies. Maybe she’d want him spending Friday nights with her somewhere drinking martinis or…whatever.

Clarisse didn’t know what to think of this. The only thing she knew was that she didn’t like it much.

No started strumming and she focused on him.

No could watch some YouTube video with some geek explaining how to play “Stairway to Heaven” or whatever and do it over and over again for an hour and have the song down pat.

Now that, she thought, was totally cool.

And probably some random woman their Dad was dating would think what everyone thought, that No was cool.

But Clarisse didn’t have anything to make her cool. So some random woman their Dad was dating wouldn’t have anything to think about her.

No, she didn’t like this much.

Maybe she should give herself an awesome nickname and talk No into teaching her how to play drums or something.

No took her out of her thoughts when he announced, “It’s seven thirty, Rees. Dad’s gonna be hittin’ us both up to see we got our homework done. I already told him I need his help with shit. Do you have yours done?”

No. She did not.

Dang.

No read her like he always did and like the pain in the butt big brother he always was, he ordered quietly, “Better get on that, Reesee.”

“Whatever,” she muttered, turned on her foot and left the room.

She heard her father’s voice murmuring from the office. He was still talking to that woman.

Dang.

She heard her brother strumming his guitar. It was idle, he wasn’t into it yet, warming up, getting the feel. Still, it sounded good.

Dang.

She walked to her room and shut the door.

Once there, she stopped and looked around. After her Dad moved out of their old place and bought this house, he made certain sure she had the room she wanted. She picked the paint and furniture and everything.

Yellows and blues and butterflies and vampire posters.

She was going to be fifteen in a few weeks.

Butterflies and vampires.

She totally needed a new look.

She spent the next fifteen minutes taking down the vampire posters, scratching off the gum on the backs of the posters and the walls, rolling them up and stowing them in her closet.

Her head was in her closet when there came a knock at her door.

She pulled her head out just as her Dad walked in and stopped.

“Homework?” he asked.

“Uh…not quite.”

He sighed.

She hated it when he did that and these days, with her, for some reason it seemed she made him do it a lot.

“Desk, Reesee,” he ordered quietly.

It was her turn to sigh.

He stood there, crossing his arms on his chest, waiting.

She walked to her desk and pulled out her books.

She felt her Dad’s hand wrap light around the side of her neck about a second before she felt his lips brush the top of her hair.

“Most beautiful girl in the world,” he muttered there then let her go and she felt him leave.

If he had a hot babe, would he still think she was the most beautiful girl in the world?

Probably not.

Dang.

She looked over her shoulder at the clock by her bed.

It was ten to eight. Dad never left it that late to check to see they had their homework done.

But he’d been busy on the phone with that woman so he was late to check.

Clarisse turned back to her books thinking, dang.

On his back in his bed in the dark, his eyes pointed unseeing at the ceiling, his dick hard, his phone to his ear, he listened to Dusty come.

Then he waited a few seconds while listening to her breathe.

Then he asked softly, “You good?”

To which he got back a breathy, “Oh yeah, honey.”

He smiled into the dark.

Then, still breathy, he heard her whisper, “You’re good at that.”

She meant phone sex.

“Findin’, when it comes to you, I got a vivid imagination.”

He listened to her soft, sexy, musical laugh.

“Got work tomorrow, Angel, gotta let you go,” he whispered.

“What about you?” she whispered back.

“My turn next time.”

“You’re on.”

He smiled into the dark again.

She was over a thousand miles away but still, something to look forward to.

“You sleep good,” he ordered.

“Oh I’ll do that,” she replied, he could hear the smile in her voice and he was pleased as fuck it was him who put it there and how he did it.

“’Night gorgeous,” she called softly.

“’Night Angel. Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Awesome,” she whispered.

He chuckled, whispered back, “Later,” got the same word in return and his thumb found the button to disconnect.

Then he tossed his phone on the nightstand, rolled to his side, tagged a pillow and curled an arm around it.

It took the five minutes it took for his dick not to be hard for him to fall asleep.

But when he did, unconsciously, he did it smiling.