Law Man

Chapter Twenty-One Drug of Choice

My eyes opened slowly and they instantly took in everything.

I was in Mitch’s big bed. Down the bed I could see his club chair and draped over the club chair was my silky, sapphire top and jeans. These were tangled with a man’s espresso-colored, tailored shirt, matching sports jacket and another pair of jeans with a brown belt threaded through its loops. My shoes were on the floor as were a pair of men’s boots.

There was heat behind me and I knew what this heat was. It was Mitch. There was weight on my waist and I knew what this weight was. It was Mitch’s arm.

I felt warm and safe and I knew why this was. I was in Mitch’s bed, in Mitch’s apartment with Mitch.

And no Billie.

Billie and Billy were in another house somewhere not there.

Oh boy.

North was an Italian restaurant in Cherry Creek. I’d been there twice before. The food was fabulous, the décor gorgeous – dark wood, cream leather seats with hints of lime green and bright orange. It was awesome.

Nearly the minute we arrived, Mitch being a detective, stubborn and clearly, I was belatedly realizing, having an insane desire to wheedle himself into the life of a Two Point Five, took advantage of my highly emotional state.

He barely had his beer, me my passionfruit frizzante and our waitress had just turned away from our table after getting our food order when the interrogation began.

“I wanted you to do this in your time, at your pace but after watchin’ you go wherever the fuck you went in my apartment I’m seein’ I can’t let you do this in your time and at your pace. So, right now, you’re gonna tell me about your Mom,” he ordered.

I looked anywhere but him, took a sip of my refreshing, delicious drink and tried to get my wits about me after experiencing the drama with Mitch which included a side order of my Mom at the same time trying to figure out a way to do anything but tell him about my Mom.

Unfortunately, I did this with my left hand resting on the table. Therefore, I found my left hand stretched halfway across the table and my fingers laced with Mitch’s.

Mitch’s fingers laced with mine felt nice. And not a little nice.

A lot.

Damn.

I put my glass down and looked at our hands. Then I looked at Mitch.

“I don’t think –”

His fingers squeezed mine. “Tell me.” His voice was very firm.

I decided first to try bitchy. “It’s really none of your business.”

He shook his head. “I know you’re filtering this information so you don’t have to deal with it so I’ll keep tellin’ you until it sinks in. Mara, you’re gonna be in my bed and my life, and when you get a new one, I’m gonna be in your bed and your life. And, cluein’ you in, you might take a good look at things and notice you’re already in my bed and my life. So, since I intend for that to keep goin’, I’m gonna have to know about your life. Not what you’ve built for the now but what you survived to get to the now. So,” his fingers gave mine another gentle squeeze, “tell me about your Mom.”

I glared at him then informed him, “You’re filtering information too, such as me explaining about boundaries and then me telling you that you have to move on.”

“I’m not filtering, sweetheart. I’m ignoring that shit because it’s whacked. Now, tell me about your Mom.”

“It’s not whacked,” I replied.

“It is,” he returned then pushed, “Tell me about your Mom.”

“It is not.”

Yet another finger squeeze and then, “Mara, baby, tell…me…about…your…Mom.”

My head tipped to the side and my eyes narrowed. “You’re very stubborn.”

“Tell me about your Mom.”

“And annoying.”

“Tell me about your Mom.”

“And bossy.”

“Mara, your Mom.”

“And you can be a jerk.”

“Mara –”

I rolled my eyes and said to the ceiling, “Jeez, all right, I’ll tell you about my Mom.”

This was not me giving in. This was my new strategy. I decided that maybe he should know about my Mom. Maybe, even though it was clear he was always alert, very insightful, often figured me out and already knew a lot about me, maybe he was somehow blind to my Two Point Five-edness.

So I decided to let him in on it.

I took another sip of my frizzante, put the glass on the table and launched in, not looking into his eyes, finding anywhere to look but him as I re-colored the Mara he thought me to be.

“My Mom’s a drunk. So’s Aunt Lulamae. Functioning alcoholics. They smoke, cigarettes and pot. They carouse. They party. They’re both in their fifties now and even though I haven’t spoken to or seen either one of them in over a decade, except our loving reunion at the store, I suspect this behavior hasn’t changed.”

“It’s not good your Mom and aunt are functioning alcoholics, Mara, but none of that is really that bad,” Mitch pointed out.

My eyes went to his beautiful ones. So brown, so warm, so deep. Fathomless. I wanted to drown in them, get pulled under, swim in his gaze for the rest of my life.

Instead, I pulled in a soft breath, steeled myself and I gave to him all he needed to understand why he was not for the likes of me.

“My first living memory is watching my mother having sex on the couch in our trailer with a hairy truck driver.”

Mitch’s gaze grew intense.

“She knew I was there,” I added.

Mitch’s fingers spasmed in mine.

“She didn’t stop even after she saw me,” I continued.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” Mitch murmured.

“I walked out when she was giving him a blowjob and I finally wandered back to my room when he started doing her doggie-style.”

Mitch’s jaw got hard.

“I remember every second,” I whispered. “It’s burned into my brain.”

Mitch sucked in breath through his nose.

“I was four,” I finished.

He closed his eyes. I thought I knew what this meant so I ignored the brutal clutch that suddenly had hold of my heart, squeezing the life out of me. I looked away and took another sip of my drink.

Keeping my eyes on anything but him, I went on, “I don’t know who my father is because my mother doesn’t know who my father is. I grew up in a small town. Everyone in that town knew about Mom and Aunt Lulamae so everyone in that town thought certain things about me. Parents, kids, teachers, everyone. Parents and teachers thought I was trash and they treated me like trash. Not even when I was young did they treat me any differently. I was tarred with her brush from the minute I entered this world and I knew nothing different every breath I took in it. Parents didn’t let their daughters come over to my house or me go over to their daughters’. Teachers barely even looked at me. When I got older, boys assumed I was easy. This was not fun because it was difficult to convince boys who thought you were easy that you were not easy. Therefore after a few very not fun dates, I stopped dating. I had two friends, my cousin Bill and a girl named Lynette whose parents were the only parents in town who were nice to me.”

When I took in a breath, Mitch urged on another finger squeeze, “Look at me.”

I didn’t look at him because I was certain what I would see. And I didn’t want to see it.

But I did keep talking.

“Aunt Lulamae had been married to Bill’s Dad but they got divorced and he stuck around town. Their divorce was bitter and it was ugly. And before they split up, it was loud and their dysfunction and hatred played out for everyone in town to see, in their trailer, outside their trailer, in Mom’s trailer, in bars, on sidewalks. And after they split up, it went on just the same. Bill’s sister has another father but he didn’t even stick around to see her born. Bill had the same reputation as me and, when I was young, I felt it was the two of us against the world so I latched on because I needed somebody. As he got older, he responded differently than me to all that was happening. He was a couple of years older than me and I got caught in that because I was young and stupid. I didn’t realize that what I was doing was solidifying in everyone’s mind that I was just like Melbamae and Lulamae Hanover. But it was more. Being with Bill meant not being around them and I hated to be around them so I escaped any way I could.”

I took another sip of my drink and Mitch gave my hand another squeeze and a gentle tug.

“Mara, sweetheart, look at me,” he called softly.

I still didn’t look at him as I set my glass down and continued my story.

“It was Lynette who saved me, her and her parents. All through senior year she told me I had to get away but I knew in my heart I’d never get away. I knew I was destined to have some crappy job making just above minimum wage and living in a trailer, just like my Mom, just like Aunt Lulamae. And I’d live in that town knowing everyone looked down on me. But for graduation, Lynette’s parents gave me an old car but it was one that worked really well because Lynette’s uncle was a mechanic and they also gave me a thousand dollars.”

My eyes slid across his face so fast I couldn’t register his expression and I kept on going but in a whisper.

“It was a nice thing to do. No one had ever been that nice to me, that generous. The tank was filled up, they had a cooler in it filled with pop, made up sandwiches in Ziploc bags and candy bars and Lynette, her Dad and Mom told me to get in that car and go. So I packed up everything I owned, some clothes, my music, that was everything I owned, and I drove. I got on I-80 and headed west. The minute I hit Denver, the second I saw the Front Range, I knew this was the place for me. The city was huge, no one here knew me and the mountains were beautiful and I wanted to see that beauty every day. I didn’t have much beauty in my life so it seemed a good idea to be somewhere that I could see beauty every day. So I stayed.” I sucked in a deep breath and ended my story with, “And, since you looked into me, you know the rest.”

“Did any of those boys who thought you were easy hurt you?” Mitch asked gently and I chanced a glance at him to see he looked his usual alert but otherwise his face was studiously blank.

“In the way you’re thinking, no. But it got physical, that physical was unpleasant but mostly it was what they said to me, the way they looked at me and the way they talked about me afterwards that was not nice. The girls did it too and girls can be way more not nice than boys could ever hope to be.”

“Did your Mom look out for you at all?”

I shrugged. “It would have been better if she thought of me as just an annoying drain on her meager resources but she didn’t. She thought I thought I was too big for my britches and told me so, repeatedly. She thought I was uppity and told me that too. I got good grades but she didn’t think that was something to be proud of. She made fun of me. She had a lot of boyfriends who were really just fuck buddies and she made fun of me in front of them too. When I got older and her special friends realized I was no longer a girl but a girl, they got ideas. Sometimes they acted on them. This ticked her off and then she started to see me as competition. She didn’t protect me from them, she shouted at me, called me a slut then she’d call me a tease. I couldn’t win either way.” I shrugged again and looked away when Mitch’s eyes darkened and not in a sexy way, in an angry way. “I used to slip out at night, especially if she had someone over or she had a lot of someone’s over and she was partying. I’d go to Bill’s trailer, sleep on the floor by his bed or go to Lynette’s. She had a double bed. I thought her bed was huge.” I pulled in a short breath, let it out on a soft sigh and whispered, “I loved her bed.” Then I blinked, pulled myself together and kept talking, “I used to climb in her window. Her parents knew I was doing it but they never said a thing.”

“Let’s go back to the men in your mother’s life trying it on with you,” Mitch demanded in a careful way and I looked back at him.

“It wasn’t that, Mitch. I wasn’t violated or not completely,” I told him without a hint of emotion. “They’d come in my room, be handsy but they were usually drunk or high so I’d get away. Then I learned to get away earlier so they didn’t even get to take a shot. Some of them were even nice. Some of them, I think, knew what it was like being Melbamae’s daughter. A couple of them tried to be like dads to me.” I shook my head and looked away, muttering, “Melbamae hated that most of all.”

I grabbed my drink and took the last sip, setting the glass down and staring at the floor beside our table. Through this, Mitch didn’t speak. Through all of it, Mitch kept hold of my hand. When it hit me he wasn’t talking, just sitting there holding my hand, my eyes drifted to his.

The instant they did, he asked, “You do know she isn’t you?”

“I know,” I whispered.

“And you know that isn’t your life and it really never was.”

I pressed my lips together and shrugged again. My eyes started to slide away but Mitch’s fingers tensed in mine to the point where it almost hurt. It definitely caught my attention. At the same time his hand gave mine a rough jerk, pulling it toward him which meant I had no choice but to lean in and my eyes flew back to his.

“I don’t understand how your mind works, baby,” he said softly, also leaning into me. “How you twist shit around but that was not your life then and it isn’t your life now. Instead of you sitting there looking at anything but me, thinkin’ I’m gonna judge you for shit that was never in your control, you should be sitting there proud in the knowledge that you got the fuck out and made somethin’ of yourself, made somethin’ of your life.”

“I –”

He shook his head, his fingers tensed even deeper in mine and I clamped my mouth shut.

“I’ve told you this before and I’ll say it again. In my job I see a lotta shit, a lot, and it is rare, Mara, unbelievably, fuckin’ rare that any kid is born to a life like yours and has the strength to get the fuck out and make something of themselves.”

“I sell beds, Mitch,” I reminded him. “I’m not the president of the free world. I don’t even have a college education.”

“Who cares?” he asked back, quick as a flash.

“I don’t own a house.”

“Neither do I,” he pointed out.

Hmm. This was true.

“Do you know who your father is?” I asked and his eyes flared.

“Yeah, and you’re gonna know him too because you’re gonna meet him.”

I shook my head. “Don’t you see, Mitch? I don’t even know who my father is.”

“Again, honey, that says nothin’ about you. Again, you were born to that. You didn’t take that away from yourself. Your mother took it away from you.”

I tried a different strategy. “Do you have a college education?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he answered and my eyes started sliding away again.

That got my hand another jerk.

“Eyes back to me,” he growled in a way my eyes went back to him. “Me havin’ a college degree means I live in a different zone than you?”

“And your mother wears twinsets,” I reminded him.

He blinked. Then he stared at me.

Then he shook his head and his lips twitched before he said, “Sweetheart, do you not see that shit’s whacked?”

“No,” I pointed out the obvious.

“Well, it’s whacked,” he returned.

I leaned deeper toward him and looked him straight in his fathomless, beautiful eyes.

“Two weeks ago, you walked through a window to my world and you lost your mind, Mitch. You took one look at Bill and the state of Billy and Billie’s lives and you lost your mind. That is my family. That is my life. And you don’t understand this because it isn’t your life but there is no way to escape it. There is no way. Because it haunts you. It’s your cousin in jail and facing prison if he survives to his trial. It’s his kids in your house, one worried about her Daddy when he’s done nothing to deserve it, the other worried about everything when he should be worried about getting to the next level on some video game. It knocks on your door and shouts the unit down so your neighbor has to confront it in the breezeway. It’s a beautiful, kind man looking into you and finding you have a juvie file. It never goes away. It’s always there. It isn’t history. It’s in my blood. It’s me.”

“No, Mara, two weeks ago, I walked into your cousin’s house. I did this after I had dinner with a beautiful woman and two really good kids and I lost my mind because that assclown didn’t give a fuck that his kids ran away and hadn’t had anything to eat all day. His house was a disaster and he was drunk and stoned and he didn’t even flinch when his kids saw him that way. I lost my mind because their clothes didn’t fit and their shoes were comin’ apart and he had vodka and smack and smokes. And I lost my mind because he didn’t apologize to you that you had to drop everything and look out for his kids and you did it in a way that I knew you were a practiced hand and I knew you were a practiced hand because he’s an assclown.”

I stared at him as he lifted our hands, unlaced our fingers but kept hold of my hand, tight, palm to palm, fingers wrapped around and his eyes locked with mine.

“But it was three and a half weeks ago I walked into your world. A clean apartment, nice furniture, flowers on your bedspread and I found out you only own a hammer. I found out you have no clue that men buy mattresses and beds from you because you wear tight skirts that show off your great ass. Because you got legs that go on forever. Because you pin up your hair and all this makes them stand by beds and mattresses and they buy them from you because all they’re thinkin’ is that they want you with your hair down, their hands on your ass and those legs wrapped around them in that bed with them. That bed could be made of nails and they wouldn’t give a fuck. They’re all about buyin’ a fantasy and you rake in your commission but have no fucking clue.”

Ohmigod. Did he seriously think that was true?

“Mitch –”

“And I found out you have great taste in music and the reason you’d barely look at me for four years is that you’re pathologically shy.”

“Mitch –”

“And it’s cute.”

“Please, Mitch –”

“And this was great fuckin’ news because you bein’ shy meant you were into me which meant I finally was open to make a play.”

“Stop it,” I whispered.

“But it was seein’ those two kids respond to you and how you responded to them that made me understand it was worth the effort to take on what I knew would be the frustrating task of extracting your head outta your ass.”

“Stop it.” This time I said those two words on a hiss.

“I already knew you looked great in shorts, great in a bikini, you were a great cook, worked hard and your friends love to spend time with you.”

All thoughts flew from my head and I blinked at him, mortified. “You’ve seen me in a bikini?”

He ignored me. “So I made my play.”

“When have you seen me in a bikini?”

“And now we’re gonna make a deal.”

I blinked again and stiffened. “What deal?”

“We’re gonna go back to the place I got you this last week. You’re gonna loosen up, come out of your cocoon, for good this time, and give me a shot. And I’m gonna take that shot and use it to convince you that you are not what you think you are but instead what everyone else knows you to be.”

I yanked at my hand in his but he only held on stronger.

“Let my hand go,” I requested on a demand.

“No,” he denied. “Agree to the deal.”

I stared at him then reminded him, “You do know that you taking that shot comes with two kids, a fucked up cousin who has the Russian mob after him and whatever Mom and Lulamae dream up. They might be functional alcoholics and over the years they may have killed an alarming number of brain cells through a variety of mood-altering methods but when they’re on a tear, it can get ugly,” I paused, “or, uglier.”

“Mara, baby, open your eyes for long enough to remember I’ve been livin’ this alongside you the last week. I’m totally clued in, sweetheart, it’s you who isn’t.”

That was when it hit me.

He had been. Mitch had been living this with me the last week.

No, that wasn’t exactly true. He hadn’t only been living it with me; he’d been taking care of things for me and for the kids. I’d been too busy, too tired and too freaked out to realize the fullness of his assistance. For over a week, without Mitch, I would never have made it. I’d had a very short taste of going it alone and it exhausted me in a way I knew would seep into my bones. I’d have had to take time off. I would have had to load up a sick Billie and wake up her brother so I could go to the drugstore to get her Tylenol. In fact, I wouldn’t have even known to get her some Tylenol.

Though, I probably would have called Roberta and learned that.

Still, it would have been harder without him.

A lot harder.

Exhausting.

I stared at Mitch. He’d done all that without complaint, without looking tired, without getting pissed, without me asking. And through all that, he also took care of me, snuggling with me on the couch when I needed to zone out. Making me chili. Making me breakfast right along with the kids. Turning off my alarm so I could sleep in.

What sane man in the whole of the United States of America takes on a pathologically shy, Two Point Five woman who only owns a hammer? A woman who doesn’t know there’s a valve to switch off the water? A woman who runs away on what was, apparently, your first date and stands you him up on your second? Then suddenly she finds herself the guardian of two children and has a family that was sent to earth straight from hell because even the devil himself didn’t want to spend time with them?

“You’re a very unusual man, Detective Mitch Lawson, and I think maybe this is because you aren’t totally sane,” I blurted because the words bubbled up inside of me and forced their way out before I could hold them back.

When they did Mitch blinked then he threw his head back and laughed.

I watched him laugh thinking that was proof he was insane at the same time thinking the same thing I always thought when he laughed. And that was that he looked unbelievably good when he laughed.

When he stopped laughing, he leaned toward me and lifted our hands toward his mouth.

“Are you sayin’ we have a deal?”

“No.” I shook my head and the humor fled from his face so I hastily explained, “I play this game with you Mitch, it’s not only me playing it. Two other people are involved.”

“Remember, Mara, I know that.”

“This doesn’t work, then they –”

“I ever give you cause to think I’d fuck you over or them?”

“No, but –”

“What I have with you and what I want to have with you is exclusive to what I have with each of those kids. What they have from me is what they’ll always have from me, if they want it, whether I still have something with you or not.”

I felt my throat close and wet hit my eyes.

God, he was really a great guy.

“You like them,” I whispered.

“They’re good kids,” he replied.

“They like you,” I told him.

“I know.”

I pressed my lips together, swallowed and then pulled in a deep breath to control my tears before they spilled over and ruined my makeup.

Mitch watched this without a word.

Then he asked, “Do we have a deal?”

“You and me are against all the laws in the universe,” I explained.

“No, you and me are against all the laws in twisted, fucked up Mara World but I’m gonna straighten out Mara World so, answer me, do we have a deal?”

I bit my lip. I considered this deal. And I knew it would be me who was insane if I made it.

Then, because I was insane, I whispered, “We do if you promise me one thing.”

His hand tensed and his eyes stayed locked to mine. “What?”

I kept whispering when I said, “When you figure it out and move onto a beautiful life, don’t regret the time you wasted on me.”

He stared at me a second then closed his eyes, turned his head and brought our hands to his lips. He just rested them there and he did this for what seemed like a long time.

Then he slid my knuckles across his lips, opened his eyes and faced me.

Then he whispered back, “I promise I’ll never regret being with you, Mara.”

I nodded. “Then we have a deal.”

That was when our antipasti arrived.

We shared a three course meal. Mitch had another beer and I had two glasses of wine

During our meal Mitch didn’t let me descend into a freak out about making a stupid deal that would lead to heartbreak and, likely, me spending the rest of my days reading the works of Sylvia Plath (and the like).

Instead, I learned that Mitch had been born in Pennsylvania and his father had moved them to Colorado when he was five. I also learned Penny was his older sister and he had a younger sister named Judy who was a physical therapist at a rehabilitation center in Vail.

He further shared the scary news that he’d been engaged to his high school sweetheart who stayed his sweetheart through college. He went on to share the crazy news that he broke it off with her when he became the cop he wanted to be and he didn’t go to work for her Daddy at his bank like she wanted him to do and she started to get bitchy.

He also shared the infinitely scarier news that he moved into our complex because it had a gym and a running trail but he expected only to be there a couple of years while he saved to put down on a house. This news was infinitely scarier because he stayed there because he liked the gym, the running trail and seeing me in shorts or catching a glimpse of me next to the pool wearing a bikini in the summer.

As this knowledge threatened to break the hold he had on my freak out, Mitch deftly steered the conversation to music and movies. However, he lost his hold upon finding out I was an action movie freak then promptly declared I was the perfect woman because I had a great ass, long legs, “fantastic fuckin’ hair…and even better when it’s down”, liked baseball, “though…the Cubs…uh, baby” (this muttered on a teasing grin) and I also liked to watch things blow up.

At that, I started fidgeting in my seat, biting my lip, looking anywhere but him and trying not to hyperventilate at the same time wondering if he’d seen The A-Team. Mitch paid the bill and led me to the sidewalk.

He stopped us there and I tipped my head up to look at him.

“Can you walk more than a block on those heels?” he asked.

“Why?” I answered with a question.

“Can you walk more than a block on those heels?” he repeated.

“Yes,” I answered because I was getting to know Detective Mitch Lawson, fast, and I might be able to walk more than a block on my heels but my feet would start to hurt if I had to stand there and beat him at stubborn which might take an eternity.

His arm slid along my shoulders and he turned me into the boutique section of Cherry Creek. I slid my arm along his waist, liking the feel of it there with his hip and thigh sometimes brushing against mine as we walked. Two blocks up and one block in, he stopped us in front of a shop.

“That’s Penny’s,” he said, tipping his head to Design Fusion, the shop I already knew was his sister’s. A shop I’d been in once and left because the stuff in it was awesome but the price tags were more than a little scary.

I stared at the shop, all its cool furniture and even cooler accessories then I looked up at Mitch.

“That’s a great shop,” I whispered.

“You know she furnished my apartment,” Mitch stated, I nodded and he went on. “You’re pathologically shy and Penny’s a pathological decorator. She’s redecorated each of her kids’ rooms about five times. She has three and the oldest one is seven. And that’s just her kids’ rooms. She’s redecorated other rooms in her house so many times, I’ve lost count. Her husband, Evan, has declared citizen’s divorce twice. I was there both times. It wasn’t pretty.”

“Yikes,” I muttered, looking into the windows at the expensive but gorgeous wares on display and thinking if her kids’ rooms had that stuff in them, five times over, the unknown Evan must be a bazillionaire or he should be nominated for sainthood.

“He’s an excavator,” Mitch continued, giving me the information Evan was far from a bazillionaire and therefore sainthood was forthcoming. “They have a sofa in their house that cost nearly ten thousand dollars.” I gasped and my eyes shot to his. “She’s a nut. She’s a pain in the ass. She’s got champagne tastes and Evan’s never gonna be able to afford anything other than a beer budget. So he talked her into opening this shop so she could get champagne wholesale.”

“Smart move,” I noted.

“Yeah, now she can talk other people into spending their money. But it’s still her drug, sweetheart, and he’s made it so she can get her fix every day.”

I studied him because I was realizing this wasn’t just his latest conversational gambit to take my mind off freaking out but that he was trying to tell me something.

Mitch kept talking. “Penny’s the type of woman you don’t ignore because Penny’s the type of woman who doesn’t like to be ignored and won’t allow it. But, during the NCAA basketball playoffs, Evan disappears. You do not disturb Evan during any basketball game but to the outside world he ceases to exist during the playoffs.”

I waited for it. Mitch gave it to me.

“She gets this about him and ties herself in knots making sure nothing stops Evan getting his drug of choice. Not kids. Not phone calls. Not the need to get up and get another beer. Nothing.”

“So they enable each other,” I remarked, Mitch smiled and turned me so we were front to front and both his arms were around me.

“No,” he said softly. “They love each other. They know what the other likes, they know what the other needs to feed whatever is hungry in their soul and they give it to them. At least Penny does but Evan does too with only a minimal amount of bitching.”

I put my hands on his chest and asked, “What’s your drug of choice?”

“I’ve no idea,” he answered. “It’s not up to me to figure it out. But whoever I decide to share my life with needs to be a woman who ties herself in knots to give it to me.”

Oh boy. There it was.

“Mitch –”

“But only because I know I’m a man who’ll figure hers out and give it to her in return.”

And he was. I knew this to be true right down deep to the very heart of me.

“This is very heavy for a first date,” I decided to point out considering Mitch had switched from doing anything to make me not freak out, to saying a bunch of stuff that could do nothing but freak me out.

“I’ve shared more breakfasts with you than any woman I’ve dated in the last year and a half,” Mitch returned. “I know what you look like in the morning. I know what you act like when you come home tired after work. I know that you pick the least expensive thing on the menu either to be nice or to be annoying in order to put me off. But I think it’s to be nice because you are nice and also both times you thought you’d be spending time with just me, you dressed in a way that would not, in any way, put me off. I know you cuddle when you’re sleeping. I know you take only milk in your coffee and you make coffee strong. I know you’re really good with kids. And I know that you use music and scents to regulate your mood. So I’m thinking this is not a first date. This is more like us hittin’ the six month mark. And the six month mark is when you stop talkin’ about shit that really doesn’t matter and start talkin’ about shit that means everything.”

Okay. I’d hit it. I was freaking out. And I decided Mitch needed to know that.

Therefore, I told him, “You’re freaking me out.”

Then he freaked me out more by saying, “Good. My first strategy is working.”

I blinked. Then I stared. Then I asked, “Pardon?”

His head dipped closer to me. “I don’t know what’s gonna work with you, sweetheart, so I’m tryin’ this first and we’ll see. I need to switch things up…” he trailed off and I kept staring.

It was then I decided to share, “I like calm and to have peace of mind.”

“Kiss that good-bye,” Mitch advised.

Not a good answer.

“Um…” I mumbled, trying to pull away and failing. In fact, Mitch’s arms brought me closer and his face dipped even nearer.

“Now, before I take you home, I need you to explain something.”

“And I need another glass of wine,” I retorted with the God’s honest truth.

“I’ll get you one at home. Now you need to explain something.”

“No, I really think I need a glass of wine, like, ten minutes ago.”

Mitch was not to be denied. “Why did you leave me in bed with Billie?”

This threw me. It also, for some reason, scared me. And it scared me because that was a couple of days ago, he’d made it relatively clear he wasn’t happy I’d done it then but him asking about it again made it clear he really wasn’t happy I’d done it.

My voice was quiet and even small when I reminded him, “I already apologized for that.”

“I know you did and I told you it was okay. Now I want to know why you did it.”

Confusion edged into my fear and my head tipped to the side. “Why?”

“Why do I want to know?”

“Yeah.”

“I just do.”

I bit my lip and realized that suddenly everything that was me needed to be certain that I answered his question in the way he needed it to be answered. And that made me even more scared.

Then I decided to tell him, “I didn’t think it was the wrong thing to do.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Yes, why?”

“I…because I didn’t think it was wrong.”

“She’s six, I’m a grown man. I’ve known her less than a month. You don’t leave a grown man alone in bed wrapped around a six year old.”

Oh God. I’d not only done something wrong, the way he explained it made it sound like I’d really done something wrong. In fact, I’d done something revolting.

“You got her Tylenol,” I blurted my defense on a whisper.

Mitch’s brows drew together. “What?”

“You got her Tylenol,” I repeated.

One of his hands slid up the skin of my back to sift into my hair as he murmured, “Mara –”

“We were,” I hurried on, “making out. On the couch. We’d been talking. Before that, you asked me if she was down, like, I don’t know, you were her Dad or something. Then she came out and threw up. And it was…I was scared. I didn’t know what to do and parents…” I shook my head, feeling stupid, feeling exposed and looked away then looked back to him because I couldn’t give up. I had to explain because it was important. “Parents when they’re starting out, they don’t know what to do. And you found out what to do and did it. You went to the drugstore, like any Dad would do. Not like Bill would do. If Billie was puking, Billy would probably take care of her. Bill would…Bill might not even be there but he probably wouldn’t even wake up. But you went to the drugstore. Then you stayed with us. And she was shivering so hard and she didn’t want you to go. She wanted you there. And it was just…we were just…I forgot who we were and I thought, I thought…” I shook my head again, closed my eyes tight, pressed my lips together, opened my eyes and whispered, “I thought she’d never had a good Dad and I’ve never even had a Dad but I thought…if you had a Dad and you got sick, the best place to be was pressed close to your Dad and he’d make you feel better.” I pulled in a breath, dropped my eyes from the intensity of his and looked at his throat. “I didn’t leave her in bed with Mitch. I left her in bed with the man who took care of her when she was sick. I didn’t think it was wrong. I never considered it was wrong. I actually thought,” I pulled in another breath and my voice dropped lower when I admitted, “I actually thought it was beautiful.”

His hand cupped the back of my head and he pressed my face into his throat. Tears filled my eyes and my fingers clenched into his shirt.

God, I wasn’t only a Two Point Five, I was an idiot. Why did he even want that deal he made me agree to at dinner? Why? It didn’t make sense.

“I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable. I didn’t even think,” I told his throat.

“Quiet,” he replied softly.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated.

Lips to my hair, Mitch said gently, “Mara, honey, I needed to know why you did that because it occurred to me after you told your story that there’s a reason you’re pathologically shy around men you’re attracted to. And that reason might not be healthy. And I gotta know what I got on my hands with you.” I tried to tilt my head back but he kept it in his throat and kept speaking. “But what you just told me is not unhealthy. What you just told me tells me that I’ve already broken through that cocoon.”

“You really haven’t,” I blurted in all honesty.

“Baby, you just told me you think of me as Billie’s new Dad to your new Mom. Soon, those kids are gonna be yours officially and any guy lucky enough to get you is gonna have to be a guy lucky enough that you think he’ll make a decent Dad to those kids. And obviously, you think that of me. So if that isn’t a big, freaking tear in the shit you got wound tight around you, nothin’ is.”

My head jerked back, taking his hand with it and I looked at him.

“I don’t think of you as Billie’s new Dad.”

“Baby, you do. You just said it.”

Shit! I did!

“It may have sounded that way but I don’t think of you as Billie’s new Dad.” Though, thinking on it, that was a kind of lie because, truthfully, I kind of did.

“At the time, you didn’t blink before you asked, ‘are you doin’ the drugstore run or am I?’ It was a given to you I’d be there through whatever we had on our hands with Billie. You didn’t ask me if I minded goin’ to the store. You assumed one or the other of us would make the run to get Billie what she needed.”

“I wasn’t thinking clearly then because I was scared and she was sick. But I don’t think of you as her new Dad. That’s crazy!”

Another kind of but definitely desperate lie.

“Okay, then when you were layin’ it out for me about how we make decisions as a team about those kids, something which you not only laid out but you also reminded me about, you did not lay it out and say what you say goes because you’re their guardian. You said we’re a team and we discuss decisions and make them together. And that was even before Billie got sick.”

Shit. I did that too.

I didn’t respond. I just glared at him.

“Right now, take a second, go back and think about what you just said to me, fuck, all that you’ve said to me when it comes to Bud and Billie,” he ordered firmly.

I glared at him. Then I took a second to go back and think about what I just said to him and all I’d said to him but I didn’t need to because, essentially, I did say that. All of it.

“I didn’t actually mean it that way.” This time I semi-lied.

“No, you don’t actually mean it that way now, now that you’re not freaking out and being honest. Now, you’re freaking out a different way and lyin’ through your teeth.”

God, I hated it when he figured me out.

Mitch wasn’t done talking but when he spoke again he pulled me closer as he leaned his face to within an inch of mine and his voice was low, gentle and sweet when he rocked my world.

“That’s another thing that doesn’t turn me off, sweetheart, knowin’ that you come with those kids and you need to know that. You also need to know I want kids of my own, two of them. But I don’t care, if this works out between me and you, that the kids we have will have an older brother and sister that don’t have my blood, just my heart.”

I blinked up at him knowing my lips were parted but my body had melted into his at the same time feeling the tears sting my nose. I was about to cry because Mitch had obviously already let Billy and Billie into his heart. And I was about to cry just thinking about making kids with Mitch which wouldn’t be a dream come true. It would be something better. More beautiful. Beyond a dream and I didn’t know what that was. All I knew was that I wanted it like I wanted a lifetime of his good mornings and him looking at me the way he did when I walked into his living room that night and coming home to me and kissing my neck then my lips when he was laughing.

“Did you hear me?” he asked when I said not a word.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“So you don’t have to lie about thinkin’ that about me and Billie because I don’t mind.”

I decided to change the subject immediately. Mostly because I was about to burst into tears and I didn’t want to do that on my first date with Detective Mitch Lawson. The date had already been harrowing enough.

“Well, you can forget about the whole me being shy around men unhealthy thing because I’m all right with men. It’s just you I’m not all right with.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because you’re you,” I answered.

“Why?” he persisted.

“Because you’re annoying, stubborn and tell me I have my head up my ass.”

He grinned and his fingers started sliding through my hair as he muttered, “Jesus, you’re full of shit.”

I totally was.

“Am not.”

“Mara, you had a problem with me for four years and in those four years you had no idea I was annoying and stubborn and I hadn’t told you you had your head up your ass.”

“You’re absolutely right. I had a problem with you for four years because you’re hot and I knew you were out of my league. Now I have a problem with you because you’re annoying, stubborn, told me I had my head up my ass and, I forgot to mention, you can be a jerk.”

His grin became a smile and his voice was soft and teasing when he said, “Glad we got that straightened out, baby.”

“Will you take me home now?” I asked tartly which was kind of a stupid thing to ask considering “home” was his home and I could definitely get in more trouble there and I knew I was already in some serious trouble.

His eyes grew dark and his arm tightened around me when he muttered, “Absolutely.”

He so totally got how much trouble I could get into at “home” mostly because he was going to get me into that trouble and obviously he was looking forward to it.

Damn.

Then he let me go but started to guide me back toward North with his arm around my shoulders and my arm around his waist as I shared honestly, “You do know because you’ve just freaked me way the heck out that you’re taking me home and then sleeping on the couch. I’m lighting candles in your room, listening to my MP3 and reevaluating my decision to make a deal with you.”

“No, what I know is I’m taking you to home and when we get there I’m gonna put a fair amount of effort into tearing that cocoon open wide.” His arm gave me a squeeze as he finished, “I’m not done with you tonight.”

“We’re done tonight.”

“We’re not.”

“We so are.”

I said this as his cell rang and he didn’t reply because he reached into his inside jacket pocket and took it out. Then he sighed when he looked at the display, flipped it open one handed and put it to his ear, all the while still walking with his arm around my shoulders.

“Lawson,” he answered then listened. “No, now is not a good time. I can’t do it,” he said, listened more and then, “You don’t get it. I really can’t do it. Mara and I have plans tonight.” He stopped talking, listened more then said, “Call Chavez.” More listening then, “Then call Nightingale.” He stopped us and stared down at his boots while he listened. Then he said, “This doesn’t make me happy.” More listening then, “Right. I’ll do it but you owe me and when I say that, I mean huge. Get me?” He listened again, sighed then lifted his head and his eyes hit mine. “I gotta drop Mara off at my place and I’ll be there. Don’t do something maverick and get your ass filled with holes before I get there. I don’t wanna be in the ER half the night and fillin’ out paperwork the other half.” Another pause then, “Later.”

He flipped his phone shut and curled me into his front.

“New deal,” he said.

Oh boy. I was already tense from the “ass filled with holes” and “ER half the night” comments. I didn’t need the added pressure of a new deal with Mitch.

“Mitch –”

“I take you home, you hang out, watch TV, drink wine, light your candles, listen to music, whatever but whatever you do, you do it not reevaluating your decision but doing what you promised and sticking with me. I gotta go out and I’ll be out for awhile. When you’re tired, you go to sleep in my bed.”

“Mitch –”

“Baby, I won’t be in it with you which sucks for me but I got a friend who needs backup tonight and none of the other guys are free. He needs someone to work this with him but even if he doesn’t get someone, he’ll work it anyway so I gotta take his back.”

“You won’t be in it with me?” I asked.

“This is gonna take a while.”

I stared at him. Then I whispered, “Is it safe?”

“It will be if I’m there. It won’t be if he goes in alone.”

“You’re sure it’s safe,” I pushed.

This time, he stared at me and his voice was gentle when he answered, “My job is not safe. Day to day my job could mean anything.”

Oh God!

“But,” he continued, “what we’re doin’ in the grand scheme of things is safe…ish.”

“That’s not a good answer, Mitch,” I whispered.

“It’s an honest one, Mara,” he returned quietly. “Now, baby, will you do me a favor and, even without me close, stay with me in the real world and crawl into my bed tonight so I know I got somethin’ good to come home to when I’m done with this shit?”

“Yes,” my mouth said before my head caught up.

He grinned at me. Then his hand came to my jaw, tipped my head back and he touched his mouth to mine.

When he lifted his head half an inch, he muttered, “Brilliant. Now I know I can pull the dangerous job card to get you to be sweet.” My eyes narrowed. “Finally,” he whispered against my lips as both his arms closed around me, “I’ve found a good use for it.”

Then he touched his mouth to mine again, this time longer, his mouth wasn’t closed, neither was mine and there was liberal tongue action.

Now that was brilliant.

When he broke the kiss and walked me back to North, I didn’t share with him that he didn’t have to use his job or freak me out enough to get what he wanted. All he had to do was kiss me and I’d be putty in his hands.

Not even that, all he had to do was call me baby.

Mitch took me home and kissed me at his door, not long and lingeringly, which I had to admit sucked. Then he told me not to worry if I woke up in the morning and he still wasn’t there. Whatever this was, it was going to take time, apparently.

Then he disappeared.

I washed my face and moisturized and got into my nightie and his flannel. Then I lit his candles. Then I put one of my chill out lists on his stereo.

Then I did something I hadn’t had time to do with any attention.

I inspected his house.

You could learn a lot just from music and if his music was garbage that would be an instant dealbreaker.

It was then I snooped without hesitation. He pushed this deal so I was going to find out what I got myself into.

I already knew his sister had good taste and his apartment looked like a show home but comfier and more lived in. I’d learned the day I cleaned it but also living there for a few days that Mitch wasn’t exactly tidy but he wasn’t a slob. Opened and unopened mail on a variety of surfaces (this I had organized). Sports jackets thrown over his very cool dining room chairs (these I had hung up). Sports magazines here and there, many of which should long since have been thrown away (these I’d stacked).

It was then I found he had great taste in music, excellent actually, more eclectic than mine and he invested heavily in CDs which was almost unheard of these days with MP3 but it was something I liked. He also had great taste in movies as evidenced by his DVD collection, heavy on the action with a good intermingling of thrillers. We were a half and half with the same taste in books. He read thrillers, as did I, but he also read true crime, which I did not.

I moved to the kitchen and noted what I’d previously noted. He drank American beer in bottles. I also noted he clearly cooked and when he did, he cooked more than chili. It wasn’t like he had a larder readily stocked just in case he was in the mood to whip up a cake. But he had spices that would indicate his culinary arsenal included more than chili and staples that evidenced that arsenal was a lot more than chili.

His medicine cabinet in the bathroom confirmed what I knew, that he didn’t use product in his hair. It also gave me the added and weirdly interesting fact that he was an ibuprofen person, just like me. No aspirin or acetaminophen to be found, again, just like me (if you didn’t count the recent addition of children’s Tylenol).

I stopped snooping, started listening to music, stopped listening to music then, yet again, I crawled into Mitch’s bed.

His bed was awesome but he really needed a mattress from Pierson’s. His mattress didn’t suck but it was nowhere near a Spring Deluxe. It wasn’t even in the same range as a Slumber Excelsior.

I decided to focus on advising Mitch on back health and the importance of having the proper mattress rather than the fact that I was again in Detective Mitch Lawson’s very cool apartment. I was again going to sleep by climbing into Detective Mitch Lawson’s very cool bed. But this time after the scary but undeniable fact that we’d had our first official date during which I had a feeling I agreed to be his girlfriend.

And throughout all this, I did not once slip out of the real world where Mitch lived and back into Mara World and mostly this was because I was concentrating on trying to keep at bay worried thoughts of Mitch out there providing backup on something that was safe…ish.

Then I fell asleep.

And now it was now. I was alone, as in no kids, in Mitch’s apartment, in Mitch’s bed with Mitch as, apparently, sometime during the night he’d come home (safe and sound, thank God) and got in bed with me.

Oh boy.

Then I decided, since he worked late, he needed his beauty rest so I was going to slip out quietly and let him have it.

Carefully, I started to move and got nary an inch before his arm around my belly got tight. I went back two inches, hit his warm, solid body and I felt his face burrow in my hair.

“Where you goin’?” he mumbled sleepily.

“I thought I’d get up but let you rest,” I offered thoughtfully.

“Unh-unh,” he growled decisively.

Oh boy!