Dream Spinner (Dream Team Book 3)
Page 40
Was … ?
God!
Was there some threat to Juno?
I rushed to him, my high heels echoing against the tile in the quiet hall, and I didn’t hesitate to grab onto his forearm that was crossed on his chest and lean in close so I could say low, “Is everything okay?”
He stared down at me.
Then he tipped his chin and looked at my fingers curled around his forearm.
He looked back at me when I squeezed his sinewy flesh and snapped, “Auggie! Is something wrong? Is Juno unsafe?”
At my question, his face changed.
In my panic, I hadn’t really registered his expression before, but now it couldn’t be missed that it was hyper alert.
I was already hyper alert but I did not take it as a good sign he’d gone hyper alert even if it wasn’t a surprise, considering all that had been swirling around the Dream Team for nearly a year.
That Dream Team being Evie, Ryn, Hattie, Lottie …and me.
The Dream Team’s men being (in order to the women) Mag, Boone, Axl, Mo …and as mentioned, Auggie was supposed to be (however was not) mine.
Like she’d tried to do for Auggie and me, Lottie had fixed up all the others. Since, there had been weddings, engagements, moving in and buying houses together in that mix.
My fixup just didn’t work.
And yeah, that was on me, because, again, my daughter had to deal with my family and the revolving door of women that Corbin introduced into her life.
She was not going to put up with that from me.
And it was important at that juncture to mention that all the drama that had been swirling around the Dream Team included death and dirty cops and kidnappings and stalking and shootouts, and it bore repeating … death.
As in murders.
So … yeah, Auggie Hero, Badass Extraordinaire standing outside my daughter’s classroom freaked me.
Big time.
His voice—something I particularly liked about him, it was deep but smooth (not silky and elegant, instead soft and calming)—came at me.
“Is there a reason Juno wouldn’t be safe?”
My voice was rising. “I don’t know! You tell me.”
“Pepper, I didn’t come up to me and ask if Juno was safe.”
Okay …
Wait.
What?
“Then why are you standing outside Juno’s classroom?”
His strong, heavily stubbled chin jutted slightly to the side.
“I’m here for career day,” he declared. “Juno called. She wants me to talk to her class about going into the military.”
I blinked up at him.
“You didn’t know?” he asked.
No.
I.
Did.
Not.
Know.
That.
My.
Daughter.
Asked.
Augustus Hero.
To talk to her class on the same day I was going to talk to her class!
How did Juno … ?
Why did Juno … ?
What the hell?
“Her father isn’t coming?” I asked Auggie.
He shook his head once. “No clue. I just know I’m here and now you’re here. That’s all I know.”
I stood there, staring at him, at a loss for words because my daughter had somehow found a way to call Auggie and ask him to come and talk to her class during career day.
She did not have a cell phone.
As far as I knew, she didn’t use my mobile.
Though, we were one of the last of a dying breed that had a landline, also as far as I knew, Auggie’s phone number was not a part of the collective conscious.
How did she call him?
Further, I didn’t know if she had a quota on how many people she could ask to come speak to the class, but if she did, and considering the fact that her father was not there, that meant possibly she’d picked Auggie over Corbin.
Even if Corbin was a cheat and an asshole and I had many (what I thought were) serious questions about his concept of parenting, Corbin was good-looking. He was confident. He dressed well. He had encyclopedic knowledge of Bruce Willis films, Seinfeld and The Office. And he was indeed baller at real estate. So he was interesting, could hold a conversation and probably had motivating tidbits to share with a third-grade class.
Auggie, on the other hand, was the most beautiful man I’d ever laid eyes on and every time I saw him I was reminded of this fact.
That thick black-black hair that curled at the ends. His hooded brow, deep-set onyx eyes and dense eyebrows that had a wicked-gorgeous arch. The slight flair to the nostrils of his strong, attractive nose. His excruciatingly perfect lips. His tall, lean, muscled body that was not too tall or too lean or too muscled, it was all just right.
Not to mention, I had noted in all of these months since Lottie had begun her fixups and we’d all intermingled copiously, that Auggie was funny.
Auggie was playful.
Auggie liked to tease.
There was some boy to this man that would never go away.
And there was something so insanely compelling about a man who was downright beautiful in a classical sense (he looked like a Greek god, for goodness sakes) being the kind of guy you knew would make you laugh in bed. Who would get into the spirit of Halloween and Christmas in a way the joy would never go out of it. Who wouldn’t sweat the small stuff and would guide you to that same.
I dealt with a lot of small stuff in my life every single day.
It’d be good not to sweat it.
And he wasn’t only a veteran, he was currently a commando.
He’d been on the team that had rescued Evie from a kidnapping, and that effort had reportedly included smoke bombs and confusion tactics, so I had secondhand knowledge that he was the real deal.
He was probably the single coolest person you could ask to speak at a third-grade career day.
The only cooler person I could think of would be Hawk Delgado, Auggie’s boss, because I had suspicions that the cover story was false to protect his identity and Hawk had singlehandedly found and eliminated Osama bin Laden.
But as such, and for other reasons, he probably couldn’t talk to eight-year-olds about that.
“Pepper, you’re touching me,” Auggie stated unhappily.
At these words, I shot back a step, letting him go, but I did this still staring at him.
Now in horror.
Oh God, how had I forgotten?
The last time I’d spent any real time with him was when we’d had sex in my foyer.
And although it had been amazing, after it was over, I’d freaked way the heck out and then kicked him out.
He did not want to be kicked out.
He wanted to explore what we both had been sensing, but what had become clear against the wall of my entryway was happening for us.
But I wouldn’t hear of it.
Juno had to survive her father’s revolving door of babes. She wasn’t going to have to do that with her mother.
I’d made a pact with myself.
No men in Juno’s life until she was mature enough to sort through that emotionally.
I had decided this would be when she was around fourteen or fifteen, though I’d consider it at thirteen, but also possibly push it back to sixteen if she was having a difficult adolescence.
I knew this was going to be a very long row to hoe for me (case in point, standing right there with all the perfection that was Auggie Hero and not being able to make him mine).
But there were sacrifices you made as a mother that were necessary to make.
This was one of them.
I had told not one single soul about this pact I’d made with myself.
None of my friends were moms, they wouldn’t get it.
Added to that, none of my friends had started a family with the love of their lives, or even had just settled in with the love of their life, sleeping beside him for years, only t
o learn he’d been cheating on them the whole time they were together.
Yep.
The whole time.
They didn’t get what it felt like to have your heart broken, your trust decimated, all your dreams for your future shattered and have to watch your daughter experience the same thing.
They didn’t get that.
I went through that.
But more importantly, Juno went through it.
Top all of it with the shit my dad, mom and sister pulled on a regular basis and okay, sure. Maybe I was overprotective. Maybe this pact was over the top.
Maybe.
But as a single mother, I didn’t have the luxury of dealing in maybes.
I needed to do what I needed to do to keep my baby safe and healthy, physically and emotionally.
And I was going to do it.
“I’m taking it Juno didn’t tell you she asked me to be here,” he remarked, breaking into my explanatory (justifying?) thoughts.
“No,” I mumbled.
“You got a problem with me being here?” he asked.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kristen Ashley is the award-winning and New York Times bestselling author of over seventy romance novels, including the Rock Chick, Colorado Mountain, Dream Man, Chaos, and Fantasyland series. Her books have been translated into fourteen languages, with over three million copies sold.
Born in Gary and raised in Brownsburg, Indiana, Kristen was a fourth-generation graduate of Purdue University. Since, she has lived in Denver, the West Country of England, and she now resides in Phoenix. She worked as a charity executive for eighteen years prior to beginning her independent publishing career. She now writes full time.
Because friendship, family, and a strong sisterhood are prevailing themes through all of Kristen’s novels, Kristen has created the Rock Chick Nation, a series of programs designed to give back to her readers and promote a strong female community. Its programs include Rock Chick Rewards, which raises funds for reader-nominated nonprofit women’s organizations and has donated over $146,000.
You can learn more at:
KristenAshley.net
Twitter @KristenAshley68
Facebook.com/KristenAshleyBooks
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Don’t miss the other books
in the Dream Team series …
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Jill Shalvis, New York Times bestselling author
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