“No,” I whispered back.
“Right,” he murmured.
Then he kissed me before he did a bunch of other stuff to me while the pizza sat on the floor and got cold.
* * * * *
“Pottery?”
“Yep, vases and bowls and shit like that. I mean it’s mine. It’s gorgeous. I love it. I put a lot into it. I totally get off on it in a way that when I say that I mean, when I’m working, I lose time. I can start at noon and the next thing I know, it’s midnight. But still, I think it’s totally whacked that someone pays two hundred dollars for a medium-sized vase,” I shrugged, “but there it is.”
Mike had on nothing but his jeans. His back was to the headboard. His eyes were on me.
I again had on nothing but my tee and panties. My body was cocked at the hips, my calves lying across his thighs, the rest of me lying across the bed. I was on my side, up on a forearm with a pillow scrunched under me.
I had a beer resting in the crook of my hips. We had the pizza box between us. And we now knew each other pretty thoroughly biblically so we were getting to the other good stuff.
“Damn, honey, your shit must be good,” he said softly as I took a bite of pizza.
I chewed, swallowed and grinned. Then I stated, “I think so.” Then I took another bite.
“I’m impressed,” he replied.
I chewed, swallowed and grinned again before I warned, “Don’t be until you see it.”
He grinned back then remarked, “So you do something you love.”
“Totally,” I confirmed.
“Good for you, Dusty,” he muttered and took a bite of his own pizza.
“You like your gig?” I asked.
He chewed, swallowed and asked back, “Bein’ a cop?”
I nodded.
“Days I hate it, days I love it,” he answered. “But I feel it’s important work. Some days, I knock myself out and don’t see anything for it. Some days, I make a difference. The days I make a difference make the rest worth it. So yeah,” he grinned again, “overall, I like my gig.”
“Awesome,” I whispered then told him, “I thought you’d be president one day.”
He burst out laughing and I watched. That was something else I always loved about Mike. His laugh. He had a great sense of humor and he laughed a lot. It was always close, easy to get. Still, back in the day, I worked for it. But it was also deep and attractive. And, over the years, it had only gotten better.
A whole lot better.
When he sobered he asked, “President?” before he put the last bite of his slice of pizza in his mouth.
“Yep,” I replied, reaching for my new slice. “I crushed on you hard mostly because you were gorgeous, partly because you were you. I thought you could do anything.”
When I had my slice and looked back at him I noticed his face had gone soft and, seriously, he naturally had a lot of good looks but that was a clear winner.
Then, quietly, he said, “Sorry to disappoint you, honey.”
“I’m not disappointed, Mike,” I assured him. “I’m not certain, being older and understanding the ways of the world, that being president is such a sweet gig. Not thinking, the way you describe it, being a cop is any sweeter but, you do something you like. You make a difference. You feel that. It’s worth it to you then it works for me. Not that it has to work for me as long as it’s working for you.”
“It works for me,” he assured me back.
“Then good,” I whispered.
He grabbed a new slice. I took a bite of mine and washed it down with beer.
He took a bite from his, reached and grabbed his beer from the nightstand and was leaning back to replace it after taking a drag when he asked, “Wanna explain something to me?”
“Shoot,” I invited, taking another bite.
He sat back and leveled his eyes on me.
“Be seriously fuckin’ disappointed to find out my guess is not true but, you’re in this bed with me, you get what it means, me spending the night, that means you’re free. What I’d like to know is how that could be?”
“Sorry?”
“You free?”
“Free?”
“You got a man?”
I shook my head and added a, “Nope.”
“So how could that be?”
“I don’t get what you’re asking, babe.”
He stopped talking and studied me and he did this thoroughly in the sense that his eyes moved from my head to my legs in his lap and back again.
Then they caught mine and he stated, his voice firm and strangely edging toward irritated, “Dusty, I think you get me.”
“Uh…that would be negatory,” I returned.
He held my gaze then he asked, “Straight up?”
“Mike, you’re totally losing me.”
“Right,” he muttered then said louder, “Straight up, Dusty, you’re gorgeous. You’re fantastic in bed. You give world-class head. You’re funny. You like what you do and you’re successful at it. You obviously know yourself and you’re comfortable with what you know. So, with all that, I’m having trouble figuring out how you’re not taken.”
I liked that he thought all that. It was great.
But…seriously?
“Pointing out the obvious, but, Mike, you’re gorgeous. You’re fantastic in bed. When you went down on me, both times, I could make a case that I had an out of body experience. You’re nice. You like what you do and you’re successful at it. You know yourself and you’re comfortable with who you are. So, with all that, how can you ask me why I’m not taken when I’m guessing that you’re also free?”
His lips twitched and he muttered, “Point taken.”
I grinned through taking another bite of pizza.
Then one of his eyebrows went up and he asked, “Out of body experience?”
I chewed but kept grinning and did this nodding.
He again burst out laughing.
I kept right on grinning as I watched.
When he stopped, I spoke. “The world is whacked in a lot of ways. One of them, I’ve noticed, is that a lot of times, good guys get stuck with bitches. And good women get stuck with morons. I’m not a cynic. I’m not one of those women who moans that there aren’t any good guys. I know a bunch of them. And they’re all with bitches. I don’t know why this happens but I’ve found my fair share of morons. I think I’m an okay person. I could probably do more for charity. Once, I was in a hurry and only had four things to buy so I raced an old, blue haired lady with a full cart to the checkout and got in by the skin of my teeth. I’ve gotten pissed off while driving and flipped people the bird. So I’m far from perfect. But I’m not a bitch or a psycho. Still, I attract morons almost exclusively.” I grabbed my beer and finished with, “Present company excepted, of course.”
Mike grinned at me.
I took a sip, swallowed, returned my beer and noted, “And you said your ex was a bitch.”
He stopped grinning but nodded to me.
“And you’re a good guy so there you go. Proof my theory is correct. Good guys get saddled with bitches and good women get saddled with morons. It’s the way of the world.”
“Honey, don’t wanna remind you of this but I stormed into your room after making a stupid judgment, carrying out a shit, knee-jerk decision and acted like a dick.”
“Right, and honey,” I returned, “you popped my sister’s cherry. Sucks but you two have a connection. She knows you and she lost her brother, used it, fed you a line of bullshit, yanked your chain and you acted on that thinking you were taking my family’s back. Debbie’s a bitch but the reason you came here wasn’t to be a dick. You were looking out for my family. Am I supposed to be pissed at that?”
“Uh…no, seein’ as if you were, you wouldn’t be lyin’ across the bed in nothin’ but a tee and panties and I like eatin’ pizza when all I can see is you lyin’ across the bed in nothin’ but a tee and panties,” Mike answered.
I grinned again and asked jo
kingly, “So, you’re saying you came here hoping to get in my pants?”
He grinned back and replied, “No, I came here to ream your ass to sort your shit out. Tapping that ass was just lucky.”
At that, it was my turn to burst out laughing and when I was done, I wondered if my face looked enthralled like the look on Mike’s smiling face when I saw him watching me.
My laughter died but I held his eyes when I whispered, “Thank you.”
“For what, darlin’?”
“Making me laugh in a way that felt good and real four days after my brother died.”
The light went out of his eyes but they stayed warm as he threw his half-eaten slice of pizza in the box and ordered gently, “Come here, Dusty.”
I threw my half-eaten slice in with his, grabbed my beer and went there. He took my beer, reached his arm out and set it beside his on the nightstand then he came back to me. His hands at my hips, he guided me to straddling him and when I settled my ass in his lap he kept his hands where they were. I rested mine on his upper gut.
I looked down at him.
He looked up at me.
“Darrin was proud of you,” he told me, still talking gently.
“I know,” I told him. “And he was a good husband, a good Dad, a good brother and I was proud of him.”
“You’ll always have that.”
“I know.”
“You got a job now, keepin’ him alive for his boys.”
I took in a fluttering breath.
Then I repeated, “I know.”
“Focus on that.”
I nodded.
He kept looking at me and I let him as I breathed deep.
Then he spoke again. “You’re right, Angel, life is whacked. But sometimes, things get straightened out. And whatever drove me here means I get the honor of bein’ with you while you deal tonight. So, it might have been fucked what pushed me to seek you out but, you givin’ world class head or not, I’m glad I’m here.”
I felt the tears clog my throat but I pushed an, “I am too,” through them before I leaned down, gave him a quick kiss and both Mike’s arms circled me.
I swallowed back the tears as Mike watched then he told me softly, “I’m good, right here, not goin’ anywhere, you need to get that shit out.”
“Thanks, babe, but I’ve been crying my eyes out for four days so I gave myself a limit. I cried when Mom and Dad met me at the airport. I cried when I saw Rhonda. I cried when I saw the boys. And I cried after my big rant when you got here. I’m only allowed three. I’m already over my quota.”
“I won’t tell, you won’t.” He was still talking softly as his arms tightened around me.
I dropped my head, stuffed my face in his neck and shoved my arms behind him to hold him like he was holding me. I did this saying my thanks to God for not only making Mike Haines a good guy but keeping him that way.
“Tell me about your kids,” I mumbled, not lifting my head.
Mike knew my game and because he was a good guy, he didn’t hesitate falling into it.
“No is sixteen, close to seventeen. He’s into music. He plays drums, guitar and keyboards. All self-taught. He’s good. He’s got a garage band and since he also plays basketball, he’s tall, a good-lookin’ kid and he’s good at basketball, most of the girls in high school think he’s the second coming. My phone at home rings off the fuckin’ hook so I quit answering it and don’t even bother listening to the voicemail messages because they’re all for No.”
“No?” I asked.
“No, Jonas. Until he was fifteen we called him his name. Then he declared himself No. He thinks it’s cool and refuses to answer to anything else. I think it’s whacked but it’s harmless so I do it. His mother finds it annoying, juvenile and laughable and refuses. She also finds every opportunity to tell him it’s annoying, juvenile and laughable. Luckily, he only has to spend four days a month with her so he can cope with being called his real name that long.”
“This is good,” I muttered. “But don’t you have two kids?”
When I said that, his arms tightened reflexively around me. This move spoke to me though I didn’t know what it was saying. So I lifted my head to look down at him and he didn’t manage to hide the uneasy shadow drifting through his eyes before I caught it.
“Mike?” I prompted.
“Clarisse. My daughter. She’ll be fifteen soon. She was Daddy’s Little Girl until last year. We were tight. All good. She’s entered a phase,” he explained.
“What phase?”
“Not sure,” he murmured then went on. “Secretive. Moody. She fights with her brother most of the time, her mother all the time and me some of the time.”
I knew all about that.
“What does her Mom say?” I asked.
“Audrey and I don’t speak. Her decree. I fought for and got full custody of the kids which meant child support disappeared. She’s struggling and blames me. So I don’t know what she says except through Reesee who informs me her mother’s a bitch. In those words.”
That didn’t sound good.
I stepped in. “Right then, quick education of knowing female to clueless male with teenage daughter. Secretive, moody and argumentative are gonna be your crosses to bear for a while, honey.”
He studied me and he did it closely. I knew what he was thinking and hoped he wouldn’t go there. It was a time I wasn’t proud of and he must have read me because he didn’t go there.
Instead, he asked, “How long of this sentence do I got?”
“She started her period?”
He flinched. I grinned.
Yeah, Daddy’s Little Girl all right. The idea of his baby becoming a woman was not something he liked to think about.
Then he answered, “Yeah.”
“You’re lucky, a year, maybe two. You’re not, you’re lookin’ at at least a nickel.”
“Fuck,” he muttered and my grin got bigger.
Then my grin faded and I whispered, “We snap out of it. Promise.”
His arms separated. One slid up my back. The other slid low on my hips. And they did this while he again studied me closely.
Then he nodded, getting me because he could see that I wasn’t who I used to be but he said quietly, “Hope you’re right.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
He shook his head but stated, “I’m seein’ a lot of her Mom in her. This isn’t good. And I don’t know if I can draw out those demons or if it’s ingrained in her.”
“And those demons would be?” I prompted.
“She wants shit, lots of it. Shit I can’t afford. Shit she doesn’t need. And she’s not happy she can’t have it.”
I tipped my head to the side and suggested carefully, “Child of divorce?”
He shook his head, not in a “no” but in an “I don’t know” and replied, “We’ll see.”
I took one arm from around him, slid it up his chest, his neck to cup his cheek and I shared, “Mom, Dad, Darrin, my headspace was fucked but they never gave up on me. I came out of it, they were there. Not long after, I realized they always were. I never forgot it and that meant the world to me. I don’t know, babe, I don’t have kids but my advice, just don’t give up on her.”
“Wouldn’t do that anyway,” he muttered and I suspected he wouldn’t. His eyes captured mine and he asked, “How long you stayin’?”
“Well, since Debbie’s here for a couple of days, tomorrow I’m having brunch with the family sans my bitchface sister and if I’m happy with their pulse, my plane leaves tomorrow afternoon. I’m not, my plans are up in the air.”
He nodded right before he leaned in, twisted and took me to my back and when he settled, torso on me and hips between my legs, he asked quietly, “Your medium-sized vases sell for two hundred a go, that mean you can afford to get your ass on a plane to visit The ‘Burg frequently?”
My heart skipped and it hadn’t done that in a long time. Beau never made it do that, not even in the beginning. It had been so lon
g, I didn’t know which moron had made it skip last.
But it skipped then. Definitely.
“Yes,” I whispered.
His eyes looked deep in mine.
Then he whispered back, “Good.”
“I’m glad you came to ream my ass and sort my shit out, Mike,” I shared.
He grinned and returned, “Not as glad as me.”
“No, I’m pretty sure I’m more glad.”
His grin turned to a smile and he conceded, “All right, honey, you can be more glad than me.”
“Thanks,” I said quietly.
“Now, you gonna shut up and kiss me or what?”
“Seriously?” I asked. “I think I already explained you’re good with your mouth. Do you think I’m gonna answer ‘or what’?”
“You’re not shutting up,” he informed me.
“Oh,” I whispered. “Right.”
His smile got bigger right before I lifted my head to kiss him.
Mike met me halfway.
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.
Games of the Heart Page 5