by Violet Haze
His hot gaze does a once-over down my body, the corner of his lip quirking up as he replies, “Maybe I fucked one earlier. You tell me.”
“Oh yeah,” I shoot back, letting go of the handle on my luggage to curl my hands into fists at my sides. “About that. You owe me a grand for the quickie. You ran out so fast I didn’t get a chance to give you my pricing.”
He laughs, the sound rich, deep, and doing things to my insides I don’t even want to admit to. I hate him for being able to insult me and then turn me on with the sound of his amusement. To make it worse, he continues to chuckle as he reaches into his pocket, jiggles it a time or two before bringing his hand back out, and shows me two quarters in the palm of his hand.
“All I’ve got is fifty-cents, so you better take it before I change my mind and keep it.”
Before I even think better of it, or he has a chance to react, my arm lifts and I punch him square in the stomach. He sucks in a shocked breath, his eyes widening as one of his hands comes up to touch where I hit him while I instantly cradle my fist in my other hand with a gasp of my own. Both sounds mix with the pings of the quarters as they fall from his hand and land on the stone of his steps, and when he finally manages to speak, he simply says, “Fuck.”
The fact he hadn’t seen it coming means I hurt him before he could tighten up his abs, but the sting of my hand compared to a little hiss of surprise from him says the pain affects me more. I hold my hand against my chest, wondering if I’ve sprained it, while he glares at me once more as he straightens up.
“I suppose you want to come inside.”
“Yep.” He steps back quick as I stride past him into the house, continuing to cradle my hurting hand as I say, “Since you’re the one who got me into this mess, now you get to put up with me until I find a place of my own.” Stopping, I turn around and glare at him as he simply stands there, watching me with an indiscernible look on his face. “Grab my bags too, why don’t you?”
Turning around without replying, he brings my luggage inside and sets it right next to the door before shutting it. After, he walks toward and then past me, forcing me to follow him. He leads us down the hallway and into the kitchen, where he opens the fridge and while looking inside asks, “Drink?”
“No,” I reply while rolling my eyes at his back. “Some ice for my hand would be nice.”
Pulling out a beer bottle, he closes the door and leans against the fridge while twisting off the cap, taking a swig while staring at me with his lips tipped up at the edges. “Would you now? Is that truly necessary, with you being you and all?”
Obviously missing his meaning, I frown at him. “Huh?”
For some reason, this amuses him, and the small quirk of his lips becomes a full-fledged grin as he shrugs. “Cold heart, no soul. What do you need ice for? Your hand’ll be okay in no time considering you’re one big ice block yourself.”
Apparently he desires for me to hit him again, but it’s his lucky day because my hand hurts enough already.
“Wow.” Glaring at him, I flip him off with my non-injured hand before walking over to the sink and turning on the cold water, shoving the other under it while flexing and moving it around a bit to keep it from stiffening up. “You’re an asshole, Zach.”
His reply is pure sarcasm. “Ouch. I’ve never heard that before.” He pauses, takes a drink as I continue to glare at him while the water rushes over my hand, and then shakes his head, his face growing serious. “You can’t stay here.”
“Oh?” I turn off the water and grab a close by hand towel to dry off my hand, which still aches but not as badly, lifting a brow at him in question while asking him the obvious. “Why not? Because of your wife? Don’t you think she should know what you did earlier?”
“What I did?” He laughs, finishing his beer and putting the bottle on the counter, before sliding his hands into his pockets casually as he continues to stare at me intently. “You were a willing participant.”
“Would I be standing here otherwise?”
Running a hand through his short hair, he sighs and stands up straight. “My soon-to-be ex-wife no longer lives here, Darcy, but that’s not why you can’t stay.”
His statement has me blinking a few times in confusion although I’m relieved he isn’t cheater and a total asshole, just ninety-nine percent. “So, earlier…?”
“I was fucking with you.” He lifts his shoulders, the smile still on his face, as he walks closer and stops right in front of where I’m standing. “I’ve been trying to get her to sign the papers for a year. She finally did today not too long ago, took her stuff, and left.”
My body responds with desire at his closeness and my mind screams for me to get away from this man who does nothing but hate me with his mouth while wanting me with his body. When I try to step away, he blocks me in against the counter, placing a hand on either side of its edge while looking down at me with barely concealed intent.
“Don’t,” I whisper while placing a hand flat against his chest to punctuate my statement. “We shouldn’t—”
He cuts me off with fast and hot kiss along with one of his hands dropping down to cup an ass cheek in his palm, giving it a hard squeeze as he grinds his lower body against mine, making it clear with his rock-hard arousal how much he wants me, as if I had any doubts.
His tongue invades my mouth, my tongue battling his for dominance in a fight it’s quickly losing, and his hand slides down my ass and in-between my legs from behind. Instinctively wiggling, he chuckles into my mouth, taking my wiggling for encouragement as his hand goes underneath my skirt, skimming the silky fabric of my panties until he’s cupping me between the legs. I expect him to move them out of his way and slip a finger inside me, but he doesn’t.
Instead, he goes still, and when an involuntary whimper falls from my lips, he drags his mouth away from mine, his reluctance apparent as he murmurs against my mouth, “You need to leave. Now.”
Yes, I do. Well, I should, but the way he’s holding me tells me what he wants doesn’t match what he’s telling me, so I ask him the obvious question. “Why can’t I stay?”
But he doesn’t get to answer me, removing his hand and jumping away as the door in the kitchen opens, making me turn away in embarrassment while smoothing my skirt down to make sure everything is in place while wondering who would just walk into Zach’s house if his wife left like he said.
I’m not prepared for the little girl with blonde pigtails who runs in.
Or for her to slam into Zachary’s leg, wrap her arms around his legs as she looks up into his face, and squeals happily, “Daddy!”
The thunderous expression on his face as he glances at me while picking his daughter up indicates he isn’t too pleased with her returning home before I left either. Especially when she encircles his neck with her arms, pecks him on the cheek, then turns her face until she’s looking right at me with her beautiful blue eyes and says in a sweet voice, “Hey-yo.”
Before I can respond, a short, dark-haired woman walks in the door and says in a raised voice, “So sorry, Mister Haider! She saw you were home and took off for the door before I could stop her and—”
Cutting off as she spots me, she stops walking at the same time Zach turns toward her and lowers the little girl back to the floor, shaking his head. “No worries, Tara. You may have the rest of the evening off.”
“Oh.” Tara looks confused, her eyes darting from him to me and back again. “I thought I watched Rose until—”
Zach doesn’t let her finish speaking, his tone growing harsh and short while Tara barely holds back her wince at the bite of his words. “My plans for the evening have changed. We’ll see you in the morning.”
“Okay. See you then.”
When she turns and leaves, I expect him to say something to me, but instead, he walks out of the kitchen without even looking at me, leaving me to wonder what to do next and shocked as hell that he’s a father.
5
Zachary
Shit.
The last thing I need is for Darcy to stay at my place. Not only because of our past, but also because of our distinct issues here in the present and how much I desire to repeat our interlude from earlier over and over again until we’re both too exhausted to speak.
That wouldn’t be much of a problem if it weren’t for the fact her little appearance on my doorstep — and our subsequent jabbing at each other — hadn’t lifted her up in my esteem just a notch more than earlier today had.
She’s changed, which shouldn’t surprise me after all these years because for most people change is inevitable, yet it does. And she can hold her own against me, which is dangerous all on its own, making me itch to put her over my lap and punish her for everything she put me through.
Now, Rose is sound asleep in her bedroom and Darcy sits in the living room on the couch a few inches from where I stand, a nervous smile gracing her lips as she watches me. Her hands rub together in her lap, and her tongue darts out every so often to wet her lips; she’s waiting for me to speak first.
The problem is, I don’t know what to say. How can I put into words everything I’m thinking and feeling after all these years along with the day we’ve both had?
Why had I let her in earlier? Or allowed her to stay after telling her to leave in the kitchen earlier right before Rose bolted in?
All I know is she can’t remain here in my home. It isn’t good for my daughter and will be even worse for me. I screwed up with my actions toward Darcy earlier today; I hadn’t expected my past to rear its head as it had, but I’ll be damned if she comes in to fuck things up for me when I’m finally getting my head on straight.
Especially after I’ve finally managed to get Erica to agree to stop fighting me on the divorce so we can both move on with our lives.
Taking a seat in the chair, I clasp my hands together and lean forward, waiting for her to meet my gaze before saying, “It’s late. You can stay the night, but you’ll need to leave before Rose rises in the morning.”
She blinks, biting her lip as she sits back and crosses her arms over her chest, the movement lifting her breasts a little. The curve of her lips firm as she breaks my hold on her gaze, glancing around the room for a brief moment before looking back at me and changing the topic. “This house is lovely.”
“It is.”
“And different from the others around it. Usually, houses in these sorts of neighborhoods look similar.”
If I weren’t exhausted, I would find the energy to summon a smile at her keen observation and tell her what she’s already deduced, that it was custom designed by me. “They do.”
She stares for a moment and then smiles. “I would like a drink.”
“Water from the tap is that way.” I point at the kitchen, stand up at her frown and clear my throat. “I’m heading to bed. I trust you can find the way back to your room.”
“Yes, I can, but—” She rises and smooths her skirt, her eyes flicking to the floor before she lifts her gaze back to mine. “I thought we would talk for a bit. I mean, it’s been a long time and…”
Unsure of what to say as she drifts off, her hopeful expression makes me feel like an ass because I’m trying to avoid her company and she knows, so I maintain the distance with my next question. “Why are you here, Darcy? Does your fiancé know you’re here?”
“I told you.”
“No. You said you were going to stay here until you found a place of your own.”
She frowns, her face clearing after a second as she shrugs. “Okay. Well, we aren’t together anymore, and I’ve got nowhere to go. And after earlier…”
Shit. I’m partly to blame for this, which means if I kick her out come tomorrow morning, I’m an even bigger asshole than usual. Muttering, I sit back down in the chair. “Wonderful.”
“Clearly, I had no idea about your daughter and I…I don’t want to put you out.” She smiles nervously when I flick my gaze to hers as she stands in front of me rubbing her hands together. “A week or two, maybe three tops, before I’ll have the money to get my own place. Oliver would’ve let me stay with him, he’s a good man, but I just…couldn’t. Not anymore.”
I study her face, yet she doesn’t look upset over the loss of the relationship, which peaks my interest against my better judgment. She found my address, came to my house, and now wants to stay for as long as three weeks all because this morning I didn’t walk the hell away from her.
And there’s nothing I want less than for this woman to stay with me for a moment longer than she has to.
“Sit down,” I tell her while standing again. “I’ll get us drinks, and we’ll talk for a little while, see if we can find a solution that suits us both.”
“Okay,” she says, taking a seat on the couch as I walk past her and out of the room.
When I return with two beers, she accepts the one I hand her and twists off the top, sipping as I sit so we’re facing one another. “Did you have something specific you wanted to talk about, Darcy?”
“Yes. We should discuss all the things you said and all the replies you didn’t get to hear.”
“Is that necessary?”
“You were pretty nasty.” She raises her hand, palm out, to stop me when I start to say something. “I understand why and you had every right to be angry with me, but I…I didn’t make that decision lightly. No matter what, I never wanted to hurt you.”
There isn’t much to say in response that won’t bring up past pain and drudge up old wounds on my end, and for her, I can only guess how the choice she made affected her life. However, her sincerity is plain to see, and it deserves my recognition. “It doesn’t change what happened, but I believe your intentions were your own and had nothing to do with me.”
Which, of course, had been the whole problem. She hadn’t considered my feelings or desires, at all.
With a sigh, she finishes her beer and sets the empty bottle on the table. “My parents were awful, all right? Beyond anything everyone knew about them, they were terrible people who would’ve turned our lives — and that of their grandchild — into a living hell. I would’ve been seventeen by the birth, but the idea of being stuck with them even for a year more along with a baby was more than I could handle.”
“You wouldn’t have had to live with them. I told you I would take care of us.”
She shakes her head and scoffs. “You thought everything was going to be okay, but I didn’t. I grew up with every aspect of my life being taken care of for me. I didn’t even know how to cook or do laundry. I couldn’t even take care of myself, so I knew there wasn’t a good chance of me taking care of a baby and going to school and everything else, even with your help. I would’ve needed them, and I didn’t want to fucking need them in my life like that.”
“You think I don’t know the reasons for your choice, for doing the opposite of what I wanted for us?”
“No, how would I when you threw about how it was money in my face?” When I don’t reply, merely lifting a brow to indicate we both understand I have my reasons, she flashes me a tight smile. “Sure, I cared about money, but it’s a fact money is necessary to survive, especially with a baby. It wasn’t, however, the only or even the main reason for my decision.”
“There’s no point in discussing this. I won’t ever believe that what you did was the right course of action to take; not now when I have a child and can’t imagine my life without her.”
She stands up, clenching her fists at her sides and glaring at me. “You said anything would’ve been better than what I did, but you have no way to know that. You think I didn’t wonder what might’ve happened, especially after it tore us apart and you were gone from my life? I loved you. And you hated me for making the right choice for myself after swearing you would love me always, no matter what. But you didn’t mean it. Your love had conditions, just as it did with my parents, and in the end, I ended up with nothing. It wasn’t something I deserved for making the best decision that could be made under the circumstances.”
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With that, she whirls around and stomps off before I can even process what she’s said, let alone formulate an appropriate reply.
And I don’t follow her because the last thing either of us needs is to make an already complicated situation worse.
Instead, I turn off the lights and head up to bed since Rose is an early riser, thinking about what Darcy said even though I don’t want to and wondering what will happen come morning since our conversation hadn’t resolved anything.
6
Darcy
“I’ll be gone after I’m finished eating,” I say, stabbing some scrambled eggs onto my fork as Zachary walks into the kitchen at seven the next morning and casts a glance toward me while heading to the fridge. “Hope that’s soon enough for you.”
I watch as he opens the fridge, grabs the orange juice, and shuts the door before walking over to a cupboard. Taking out a glass, he ignores my comment while pouring, and places it back in the fridge. Then, he turns to me, takes a drink of his juice, and says, “Did you sleep well?”
“As much as one can sleep when they’re faced with being turned out in the morning.” My answer is a little disingenuous — he hadn’t invited me here, after all — but after last night, I don't think it matters much at all to him as long as I leave. “These eggs are good, however.”
“Local,” he tells me with a smile, ignoring the first part of what I said. “Better than store bought ones.”
His random remark amuses me, however, and I have to squash down a smile. “Can’t say I’ve ever entertained the thought that there would be a difference.”
“Most people don’t.”
“Well, that’s great.” Eating the last of my eggs, I stand up, take the plate over to the sink, and rinse it before turning to face him. “Thanks for letting me stay the night.”
The kitchen door opens as he opens his mouth to reply and the woman, Tara, from yesterday steps inside. Zach walks past me, grabs her arm, and pulls her into the other room while speaking in a tone low enough I can’t hear what he says.