Dream Spinner (Dream Team Book 3)

by Kristen Ashley

  So I bravely tucked it in and turned to him.

  He didn’t say a word.

  He wasn’t smirking at me.

  He just moved to me, angled his head and kissed my neck.

  He’d done that last night too.

  I hoped that was an Axl Thing because it was sweet, and I liked it a whole lot.

  He took my hand and led me to the door to the garage.

  “Later, Cleo!” he yelled.

  There was utter silence from the house.

  Axl grinned at me as he pushed open the door.

  I grinned back.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Porn Preferences

  HATTIE

  My joy faded on the drive home.

  Though, it had started on an upswing, me finally in Axl’s Jeep Wrangler (also painted graphite).

  Jeeps were awesome, for one, and Axl was awesome, for another.

  Mostly, it seemed like I’d wanted to be riding in that Jeep for decades, and there I was, riding with him in that Jeep.

  But then he was quiet, and I was quiet, and being in his fantastic house after sleeping on his fabulous mattress started to wear off.

  And, as I was wont to do, I got to feeling awkward.

  I had a million questions to ask.

  Like who was the artist who took the pictures in his living room, because it seemed like they were all taken through the same person’s lens?

  And did he decorate his house?

  And did his folks live in Denver?

  And did he have brothers and/or sisters?

  Also, if he used his Jacuzzi a lot.

  But this was us in a confined space. The time we’d be together was short. I’d lost the confidence I’d found when tucking his note in my purse. And even if he’d fascinated me for a long time, and I was dying to know everything about him, I didn’t want to seem like I was interrogating him.

  I also didn’t want to communicate I was dying to know everything about him.

  And he wasn’t communicating at all.

  After what seemed like forever, he called, “Hattie.”

  “I know,” I blurted. “This is awkward.”

  “What?” he asked.

  I looked at him. “This silence. It’s awkward.”

  “It is?”

  He didn’t think it was?

  “Well …”

  “Babe, we don’t have to talk every second we’re not kissing.”

  Every second we’re not kissing.

  Mm.

  Shiver.

  He reached out and touched my thigh.

  It was brief.

  It was sweet.

  And another shiver.

  “I get you’re shy,” he continued gently. “I get this is new, even if it feels old. But don’t get into your head about little things, honey. I’m just drivin’ you home, glad we’re movin’ shit in the right direction, lookin’ forward to taking you out tonight, and that’s all that’s on my mind.”

  “Okay,” I said softly.

  “That and to ask if you’ve had anything to eat.”

  “Just coffee.”

  “You want me to swing through someplace?”

  I knew he was gorgeous.

  I knew he was brave.

  I knew he owned a Jeep.

  I knew I wanted him.

  I sensed he was nice, what with how cool he’d been through all of this (mostly).

  But man, it felt great knowing he wasn’t just nice.

  He was seriously super nice.

  And I could murder a bagel, but I could do that mostly to draw out the time I spent with him.

  He was busy, however, and that’d be uncool.

  “I have stuff at home,” I told him, not exactly the truth, since I made a grocery list the day before, but I didn’t go out and get any of it.

  I still could scrounge something up.

  “Right,” he said, then he asked, “You tell your dad he’s on his own tonight?”

  Ugh.

  Another joy killer.

  “No,” I answered and explained, “The less time I give him to hassle me about it, the better. I’ll tell him later.”

  “Right,” he muttered.

  Okay.

  Well, there was something to talk about.

  Not that I wanted to talk about it.

  But it was something we should discuss.

  “We need to talk about him, Axl,” I noted.

  “We will tonight,” he agreed. “Or maybe tomorrow. Maybe the day after.” He paused. “What I’m saying is, it’d be good to have some time with just us before I get aggravated about your father.”

  Oh boy.

  “Okay,” I gave in, but importantly pointed out, “Though, just to say, when we talk about it, like you said, he is my father.”

  He glanced at me then reached my way, not to touch my thigh, with his palm up. Thus, I knew he wanted my hand.

  I gave it to him.

  Then he rested our clasped hands on my leg and said, “It won’t be you I’m aggravated with. It’s important you get that, Hattie. I told you when I was bein’ a dick to you, I understand the pull a parent has, even when you wish they didn’t have it. Yeah?”

  I had not forgotten what he’d said about his dad.

  But I also kinda did.

  “Do your parents live close?” I asked.

  “Cherry Creek.”

  “Oh.”

  Yup.

  That was close.

  And a ritzy neighborhood.

  The monogrammed notepad was even further explained.

  Axl kept going.

  “Mom hasn’t worked since she gave up her job when she had me. There are women who are good to do that, some born to do it, but she’s a woman who shouldn’t have done it. After she did it, she felt she had to become Supermom and Superwife. And that was her, the way she was. An overachiever. But Dad played no small part in validating it for her.”

  I already suspected I wasn’t going to like his dad all that much.

  I was thinking I might be liking him even less now.

  Axl continued.

  “Eventually, when I got in high school, outside coming to meets, she had nothing to do. They have a big house. Dad requires all the trappings of the status he’s earned, so they also have a lady that cleans and runs errands and stocks the kitchen and sometimes cooks. Mom does some charity work because that’s what Dad thinks she should be doing. Mom does not go back to work, because that’s not what Dad thinks she should be doing. Bottom line, she’s bored out of her mind, has been for twenty years, and it’s torture, because it’s like watching the slowest death in history.”

  Oh my God.

  Yikes.

  Awful.

  “I hate hearing that, Axl,” I said softly.

  But I didn’t ask if there was some more sinister reason why his mom didn’t stick up for herself and do what made her happy and fulfilled regardless of what his dad wanted.

  “I hate sayin’ it, but it’s the truth,” he replied. “She’s like … ” He shook his head. “Vacant. A robot. She switches on when she’s conditioned to do that by Dad. Say, he has some dinner party he wants her to give. But that’s rote. And she switches on for me. And that’s genuine. I bought that house, and I had some idea of what I wanted it to look like, but I worked with her in doing it. She handled the bathroom refurb and the painters and the guys who put in the blinds. Shit like that.”

  “I bet she enjoyed helping you,” I remarked hopefully.

  “Hattie, she was in software tech before she quit. In the ’80s. When home computers were just taking off. Her field was highly competitive. Way more than now. It was emerging and there weren’t many like her. You had to be sharp, one of the best, to land a job like that. She’s kinda like Evie, just not on that scale, though not far off. And from what I can tell when she talks about it, she really liked doing it. Now she’s forced into being nothing but the wife of a successful, prominent attorney who flirts with political ambitions. And that’d
be okay, if that was what she wanted. That isn’t what she wanted. The life she leads has choked any true enjoyment she could have out of her.”

  My heart hurt, listening to him.

  It hurt for Axl.

  And it hurt for his mom.

  “God, Axl. That’s awful,” I spoke truth.

  “Yeah. Not as bad, but still bad, Dad doesn’t even fuckin’ notice.”

  I said nothing.

  Though I didn’t because this made me angry.

  Yup.

  Official.

  Even not meeting the man, I really was not liking his dad.

  Axl spoke on.

  “So, there you go. When we really dig into all that, it’s going to be aggravating. But now you know that isn’t all going to be on you, it’s the same coming from my end.”

  “That doesn’t thrill me to bits,” I shared honestly. “Because I don’t like that for you. Or your mom.”

  He grinned. “Yeah. Still.”

  Yeah.

  The “still” part of that was that we weren’t skewed with only me having the dysfunctional family.

  He clearly had his share of that.

  Maybe worse, having to watch his mom be like that.

  “And just to say,” he carried on, “you wanna ask anything about me, ask. Work is confidential. We offer that to our clients, and we take it seriously. So I’ll never be free to talk about that.” He squeezed my hand. “But other than that, don’t hold back, Hattie. We both been waiting a long time to be right here. It feels good you wanna know about me and I want the same from you. We can have our times when we’re quiet and not sharing, and that’s okay. But if you don’t want it to be one of those times, just go for it.”

  Man.

  Seriously.

  He was the greatest.

  “Okay?” he prompted.

  “Okay,” I agreed.

  “Now, do you want me to swing through somewhere to get you some food? I got shit to do, but nothing that can’t wait another fifteen minutes.”

  And man.

  He had a lock on me.

  “I’d love a bagel.”

  Axl immediately started checking his mirrors.

  And it was more than fifteen minutes seeing as he backtracked because we swung by Moe’s.

  Considering this was a special occasion (in my mind), I went all out and got the Spicy Buff breakfast bagel, Axl got the Shorty-P, and we headed back out.

  We didn’t talk much on the rest of the way to my pad, and not because we were eating. Axl said he’d hang with me at my place to eat and then he’d take off.

  My joy came back because I loved that, after what Axl just gave me, I could settle into the quiet.

  And I loved that he was going to essentially have lunch with me (since it was just after eleven).

  What I didn’t love was, when we were nearing my house, Axl muttered, “Shit.”

  I turned my attention to my pad.

  Sly was standing outside it.

  “Wait, is he bodyguarding again?” I asked.

  “Forgot to mention, this morning when he dropped around, made a deal with Cisco. We’ve got a project we’re working on together. Seein’ as both it and you are important, we’re splitting resources. This means sometimes, it’s gonna be his guys on you, sometimes, it’s gonna be me or my guys.”

  Axl offered this answer as he found a spot on the street and started to parallel park.

  Of all that had impressed me that day about him, Axl talking and parallel parking at the same time was top on the list.

  Though I was curious what project they were on with Brett.

  Did it have something to do with him being framed for that policeman’s murder?

  Sadly, it was Axl’s work and I couldn’t ask.

  Instead, I inquired, “So why did you say ‘Shit’ when you saw Sly?”

  “He was supposed to come when I texted that I was going.”

  “And you’re upset he’s early?”

  “I’m upset about the look on his face.”

  I stopped looking at Axl and started studying Sly, who was walking our way.

  He didn’t seem any different than normal. I’d noted he tended to appear to be in a bad mood, even when he wasn’t. And that was what he looked like now.

  I got out. Axl got out.

  And Sly was all about Axl.

  “She doesn’t go in,” he stated immediately.

  Oh no.

  “What happened?” I asked, feeling a freak-out burgeoning.

  Did this guy who was harassing me go from ick to gross to breaking into my house and doing something extreme?

  Sly didn’t even look at me when he kept speaking.

  “On the welcome mat. Outside her front door. I’ll stay here with her.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  Axl looked a mix of grim and pissed as he stalked the four car lengths to the walkway of the house.

  When he disappeared inside, I turned my attention to Sly.

  “Again, what’s happening?”

  He focused on me and his voice got soft.

  Uh-oh.

  “Chill, doll, it’s a continuation, not an escalation.”

  “And you’re saying that’s good.”

  “I’m sayin’, when you got some asshole bein’ an asshole to you, that sucks. But him just continuing to be an asshole is better than the alternative.”

  Well, that semi-explained it.

  “What is it? More pictures?” I pushed.

  “Maybe your man should—”

  “It’s my life, my apartment, my stalker, Sly,” I snapped.

  Yeesh.

  I mean, I didn’t want to be ugly, he was looking out for me, and although Brett was paying him, it was still nice.

  But seriously.

  He finally told me.

  “Rope. Red rope. Like the chick was tied up in, in the pics he sent. Coiled on your welcome mat with a note that says, ‘Waiting for you.’ ”

  “Fabulous,” I hissed.

  Axl came out, looking less grim and more ticked.

  When he made it to us, before I could say anything, he declared, “You’re going in the back way. You’re packing a bag. And you’re moving in with me.”

  Well.

  Uh …

  I really loved his house and I was all in for Cleo to dislike me from afar on the off chance one day I might earn a cuddle.

  But …

  Yikes!

  “It’s just rope, Axl.”

  “He knows where you live, where you work, and your cell number. The first and second are easy. The last, this fucker has time and dedication or resources. And this is three days, three hits. Right?”

  I thought there might be a day added in there.

  But yes, essentially.

  I nodded.

  “So he’s not letting up,” Axl concluded.

  “But, if he’s following me, he can follow me to your place and then he’ll know I’m there. So …”

  I trailed off.

  Axl picked up the trail.

  “So, I got an alarm. I got a gun safe with six guns in it. I live a block away from Aug, so I also got backup close if I need it at night when dicks like this act like bigger dicks.”

  These were all definite pluses to staying at his place.

  Him being there when he wasn’t working was another.

  His place being as awesome as it was, was a third.

  But he’d shown me his (essentially), I wanted to show him mine.

  That was, my apartment.

  To share all this, I said, “Um …”

  “We’ll go in, we’ll eat. I’ll take off. You’ll pack a bag. Do whatever you were gonna do. I’ll find you later and give you a key. You text me where you are so I can pick you up for dinner tonight. We have a reservation at six. If I’m meeting you here, I’ll pick up you and your bag. If I’m meeting you at my place, be sure you bring your bag with you.”

  “I’m uncertain I want to get ready for our fir
st date in front of Cleo. She’s judgy.”

  Axl stared at me.

  Then he did something insane.

  That being insanely good.

  He caught me by the side of the neck, jerked me to him (it was a gentle jerk, it was still a jerk), this movement including him making me list to the side.

  He then kissed the other side of my neck, righted me so I was no longer listing, but laughed into my skin before he said in my ear (still laughing), “Then I’ll pick you and your bag up here later and that means we don’t have to reconnect for me to get you a key. I’ll give you one tonight.”

  When he pulled away (but did not let my neck go), I caught his eyes and noted, “I’m okay with seeing the rope, Axl.”

  “I’ve called for one of the guys to come, have a look, take some pics, and do some dusting for prints. I don’t want to disturb it until that’s done. Zane’s gonna be here in fifteen. So we go in the back way.”

  That made sense.

  I nodded.

  He slid his hand from my neck so his arm was around my shoulders.

  Sly was there.

  Whoops.

  Forgot we had company.

  “Sorry, we didn’t get you a bagel,” I said to Sly. “We didn’t know you were here.”

  “Cisco told me to show. I showed,” Sly explained.

  “Food, fuck,” Axl muttered, clearly remembering we’d left it in his car.

  He let me go to head back to the Jeep as Sly warned, “You eat in front of me, you’re gonna have to watch me eat later. I’m hungry.”

  “Probably not as exciting as what I let you watch yesterday, but it won’t kill me.”

  Sly smiled his agreement to this, which I didn’t think I’d yet seen him do, the smiling part. It turned him from looking like a lovable bruiser to a cute, lovable bruiser.

  Axl re-joined us. We walked down the side yard to the back. I let us in.

  And once we all got through the utility room, I watched Axl, trying not to let on I was watching him.

  He certainly looked around, perhaps not with avid interest—ogling my shock-of-color art and my fantastic beanbag—but he definitely took things in.

  So yes.

  He’d wondered what home was for the girl who was his but not.

  Like I’d wondered about what home was for him.

  He didn’t turn and give me a thumbs-up.

  He did one better.

  He looked at his boots and he did that grinning.

  I took that as a stamp of approval.

  And even with some weirdo leaving bondage rope on my welcome mat, again came the joy.