by Morgan James
“Stupid dressing rooms are too small. Ugh!” Caryn threw the dress on the ground just as I came around the corner. The woman glared at me. “And this fabric is cheap. It ripped right down the back as I was taking it off!”
I locked my hands together in front of me and squeezed tightly, drawing in a deep, calming breath. Don’t kill her. She’s not worth it. I had to reorder more lace anyway to adjust the length of the train, so I would fix that at the same time. I’d just tack the price on to Caryn’s ever-growing bill. Thank God the bridesmaids had already purchased and picked up their gowns. The only thing left for them to do was have a few minor alterations done, and they had those scheduled for just a couple weeks prior to the wedding. After this wedding was over, I’d never have to see the supercilious, self-righteous woman again.
Caryn shot me a challenging look, and I pasted on a tight smile, refusing to let her ruffle my feathers. “Just leave it there and we’ll take care of it.”
Aggravation flashed on the woman’s face; she was obviously disappointed that she hadn’t been able to get a rise out of me. With a huff, she stomped toward the front of the store, designer handbag swaying at her side. “I’ll be in touch. Maybe next time you can get it right,” she sneered.
The doorbell jingled a happy little tune as it closed behind her, and I shot a glance at Brenda, who flashed both middle fingers at the woman’s retreating form.
“Good riddance.”
I laughed. “She’s a handful, that’s for sure. Can you imagine what the poor groom must feel?”
Brenda shuddered. “She either has him completely whipped or he’s just as much an asshole as she is.”
I made a small sound of commiseration. “Maybe he’ll come to his senses.”
“Then what?” Brenda turned to me. “Can you imagine having to deal with that woman a second time around?”
Now it was my turn to shudder. “God, no. I’d talk to the groom myself, convince him to keep her.”
Brenda laughed. The sound was drowned out by the jingling of the bell over the front door. A familiar young woman walked into the salon, and my stomach dipped. I’d forgotten that she was coming to pick up her final paycheck today.
Megan had been my employee since the salon opened almost three years ago. She’d been reliable—up until about a week ago. Megan was getting married this summer, and I’d gotten complaints recently that, when working with bridal parties, she talked more about her own wedding than the customer’s. Not to mention the money. Megan was my third key—the backup to Brenda and me. We rotated opening and closing the store each day. Unfortunately, the last several times Megan had closed by herself, we’d found money missing from the drawer the following morning. It was never anything major—five dollars here, ten there—but it was the principle of the thing. Megan still denied any involvement, but I’d had to cut her. If nothing else, I had to make an example of her so my other girls would know they couldn’t get away with it.
I rounded the desk and greeted her with a polite smile. “Hello, Megan. Let’s head back to my office.”
I shot Brenda a quick look. “Call if you need me.”
Megan sullenly followed me to the back of the salon and preceded me into my small office. I took a seat and gestured for her to do the same. Her paycheck was locked in the top drawer, and I retrieved it, handing it to her. She snatched it from my hands, a nasty sneer on her face.
“I still think this is crap.” She stuffed the envelope in her purse and crossed her arms over her chest.
“I’m sorry,” I said softly. And I meant it. She’d really been a great addition to our team, and I’d miss having her.
“I didn’t take your money,” she said adamantly.
I took a deep breath. “Unfortunately, that’s not what the computer log says,” I stated. “I looked back through the transactions and found that your code was entered to unlock the register each time.”
Her shoulders dropped. “That’s not possible. I swear I didn’t do it!”
I resisted the urge to rub my temples. She’d been singing the same song for a week now, and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear she was telling the truth. But numbers didn’t lie. Right before she left each night, she’d entered her six-digit code to open the register and count the money—and skim a small portion off the top.
I sighed. “I’m sorry, Megan. I don’t know what else to tell you.”
“Well, you’re blaming me for someone else’s mistake.” She shoved her chair back and stood. “Whatever. I don’t need this job anyway.”
I pressed my lips together and held back an eye roll as she stormed from my office. There was a niggling doubt in my stomach that said she was telling the truth, but I just couldn’t prove it. Either way, she had to go. I didn’t like to fire people—in fact, I’d never had to do it before now. But I was sure it wouldn’t be the last time. So, steeling my shoulders, I grabbed my purse, then locked up my office and headed back to the front of the salon.
Brenda slid a wry look my way. “Sounds like that went well.”
I lifted one hand. “You know how it goes.”
“I do,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
“It is what it is.” I drummed my nails on the counter for a moment. After that little episode, I needed a pick-me-up. “Well, since we don’t have any more appointments for the afternoon, I’m going to go see my favorite person. Gwen and I will put in some extra hours later.”
“What do you want me to do with the witch’s dress?” Brenda called.
I turned around, walking backward toward the front door. “Leave it there for all I care. She wasn’t too worried about it!”
Pushing my concerns away, I climbed into my car and headed home. My heart lightened considerably as I unlocked the door and stepped inside. Soft music drifted from the living room at the back of the house, and my feet carried me in that direction.
My eyes landed on the towheaded baby girl seated on the floor, clapping her hands in time to the lullaby playing on the TV. At the sight of me, Alexia clambered awkwardly to her feet.
“Ma-ma-ma!”
A grin split my face. How had I made something so perfect?
I dropped to my knees and scooped my baby girl into my arms. “Hey, baby. Mama missed you.”
She gave me a wet, smacking kiss on the lips before planting her chubby hands on my chest and shoving herself away, eager to get down and play some more. It simultaneously made me proud, yet sad. It almost made my heart hurt to see my daughter’s fierce independence. It was something she’d so obviously gotten from her father.
I turned my attention to the older woman on the couch. “How was she today, Darlene?”
“An angel, as always.”
I chuckled. “I don’t believe that for a minute.”
At only eleven months, Alexia was stubborn and determined. She’d begun eating solid foods at three months and taken her first steps only days after she’d turned nine months old.
Darlene just winked at me. “Doesn’t matter. She could be an absolute terror and I’d still love her like my own.”
I smiled at the older woman. Darlene and her husband had come into my life just when I’d needed them most. They lived right next door, occupying the other unit of the duplex I currently rented. Within only a couple months, George and Darlene had become the family I craved.
Over the past year and a half, Darlene and I had become extremely close, though I’d never disclosed the full truth about my relationship with Xander. The older woman knew that Alexia’s father was in the military and spent much of his time overseas. I’d never once mentioned that we’d divorced after our very regrettable Vegas wedding and that he knew nothing of his daughter.
Warmth spread around my heart as I watched Darlene pull Alexia close and press a kiss to one chubby cheek. Alexia jerked away as if offended to have had her personal space invaded. She framed Darlene’s face in her little hands, then returned the favor with a sloppy, wet kiss of her own. The interaction brought a s
mile to my face. We weren’t perfect, but we had everything we needed. My daughter filled so much of my heart, but there was a tiny little corner that remained empty—and I feared it would feel that way forever.
Chapter Six
Xander
I stared out the small oval window of the airplane, nervous anticipation racking my body as the familiar landscape came into view. Over the loudspeaker, the captain announced our descent, and something inside my chest tightened. It was good to be home. Not that I’d be here long. Just over a week from now I’d be packing up and heading to Dallas to start my new job anyway.
Through a friend I’d learned of Quentin Security Group, a private firm that focused primarily on personal security detail. Just getting off the ground, QSG was open to anything they could get their hands on. An ex-Marine himself, Connor Quentin looked for the brightest and best to bring various skill sets to the team, giving ex-soldiers something to do besides sit behind a desk all day. And the fact that QSG was located in Dallas was an added boon—because she was there. The past two years felt like a blur of activity, throwing myself from one mission to the next, but I hadn’t stayed quite busy enough to keep my mind from drifting back to a certain brunette.
I knew the likelihood of running into Lydia in a city that size was slim to none, but my heart raced every time I thought about her—with anger, anticipation... lust. I’d had time to reevaluate my life after I left Vegas—and Lydia—behind. She might have been thousands of miles away physically, but she was never far from my mind. There was something about her that called to me, something biological that had been a perfect complement to me. But she hadn’t wanted any of it. Or maybe she’d been denying herself.
Still, I couldn’t turn off the feeling that she was more than a one-night stand. I’d really connected with her. She was smart and sexy and easy to talk to, and I’d appreciated that more than anything else. For a moment, I allowed my thoughts to drift to her once more, wondering what she was doing right now. I hoped her business was doing well. I knew from the way she’d spoken that she truly loved her job, and, even though part of me was mad at her, I wanted to see her succeed.
She’d be two years older, probably getting ready to settle down. Was she dating someone? Married? My hand clenched into a fist where it rested on my thigh, and my gut twisted into a knot at the thought of her with someone else. Part of me wanted to look her up, to see if we still connected as well as we had that night in Vegas. The other part of me dreaded seeing her. Did I really want to know if she was married to some nine-to-five desk jockey, living in the suburbs with a white picket fence and a baby on the way? Fuck no. Maybe it was time to bury the past and move on.
The plane bounced several times on the runway before coming to a stop, and people slowly began to file off. It seemed to take forever to deplane, my nerves growing increasingly agitated with each moment that passed. I grabbed my beat-up bag from where it was stored overhead then slipped into the flow of passengers headed toward the exit. A familiar face so much like my own stood near the doors of the airport.
I flashed my brother a grin and strode toward him, wrapping him in a tight hug.
“How was the flight?”
I yanked on the strap of the duffel, pulling it higher on my shoulder as I made a face. “Long.”
I’d spent the past twenty-six hours either in the air or wandering airports, and now all I wanted was to get home. Somewhere familiar. Abel led the way to his truck, and I tossed my stuff in the back before climbing into the passenger seat. “How’s Emily?”
A bright smile lit my brother’s face. “Good. About five months along now.” Pride had his chest puffing out. “It’s a girl.”
“That’s awesome, man. I’m happy for you. You sure you guys don’t mind me crashing for a couple days?”
“Naw.” Abel flipped on his blinker to merge onto the highway. “Em can’t wait to see you. We’ve still got all your stuff packed up in the basement, so all you have to do is call the U-Haul.”
“I appreciate it.”
Abel and Emily had moved into our parents’ home after they’d been killed, and so many mementos of our childhood remained in that house. I knew I’d find my old baseball glove and cleats buried in one of those boxes, and it brought a smile to my face. It was the kind of home I wanted for my family one day.
My smile slipped away as a pair of steel-gray eyes invaded my memory. Trees and telephone poles sped by in a blur as the miles bled away, taking me back to that night in Vegas with the woman I’d never forget. Even the smallest things reminded me of her, and I wondered if that would ever change.
Dust rose behind the truck as Abel churned down the old gravel road to the farmhouse, and I rolled the window down, breathing in the fresh air. There was something so pure, so clean about country air. It wasn’t tainted by fumes or thick humidity or the sand that rose into the atmosphere, earth splintered apart by land mines.
Thank God that part of my life was over. I was honored to serve my country, but now I was ready for the next phase of my life—settling down, starting a family. I looked back on my mistake with Lydia with a sense of resigned bitterness. I’d have probably made her a shitty husband anyway. She would’ve been stuck home alone while I was halfway across the world, going to sleep every night wondering if I was safe—alive.
She’d reached out to me a couple times—short, succinct emails asking to talk. I’d almost given in. But it would’ve been pointless. I wasn’t good enough for her then and I sure as hell wouldn’t be now. Besides, I’d seen this before; it was nothing more than a case of misplaced guilt. Women felt bad for breaking things off right before their husband or boyfriend was headed right back into the heart of danger, and they’d beg for reconciliation without really meaning it. I had no desire for Lydia’s sympathy. As she’d requested, I’d signed the damn annulment papers and done my best to push her from my mind. It was better for both of us this way not to drag it out.
I’d seen too many failed marriages between my friends and their wives and girlfriends back home. No, when I married, I would do it right. I’d take my time, make sure that we were compatible on all levels, that we were on the same page and wanted the same things out of life. I would be there for my wife and kids, be home for dinner every night. I didn’t want to miss birthdays and anniversaries and watching my baby’s first steps. I just needed to make sure I didn’t make the same mistake as I had two years ago. I’d let a pretty face and intense chemistry sway my emotions.
I was looking forward to settling down, but I could still feel the barb in my heart from Lydia’s rejection. Sometimes I resented her for turning me away. Part of me prayed she wouldn’t sign the papers; despite her insistence that we annul the marriage right away, it’d taken damn near a year for her to file. I deserved someone who was willing to meet me in the middle, but Lydia hadn’t even been willing to try.
But... then why reach out to me? It was a question that had nagged me over the past couple years and, if I was really honest, it was quite possibly a huge reason I hadn’t allowed myself to move on just yet. Deep inside there was still a small sliver of hope that maybe—just maybe—she regretted walking away from me. Unfortunately, I had a feeling it was too late for all that. Why would she wait for me when I’d been too much of a pussy to even respond to her?
I could’ve emailed back, but what would I have said? That I still loved her? She’d have laughed in my face—metaphorically speaking. Had I ever actually loved her? Maybe not. But she was the type of woman I could have come to love. Or was it a fleeting moment of passion that had ended too soon? We hadn’t parted on the best of terms, but what exactly did she expect from me? Did she want an apology, an affirmation that what we’d done was wrong? Because I wasn’t completely sure it was. For that brief moment in time, I’d been happy. She was different, special, and she made me feel like no other woman ever had. What I wouldn’t give to go back in time to do things over, do things the right way.
When I got to Dallas, I’d
look her up... eventually. I didn’t exactly relish the idea of seeing her with another man, but I had a feeling it was the only thing that would give me the kick in the ass I needed to let go once and for all. It sounded stupid to my mind, but my heart needed the closure. I needed to see for myself that she’d moved on so I could do the same.
It may have been the best sex of my life, but it wasn’t enough to make a marriage. Lydia’s molten gaze tormented me, the memory of that night still fresh in my mind. The thought of her made me hard, and I willed the arousal away as Abel pulled the truck up alongside the barn. Goddammit. I needed to scrub the memory of her from my brain. How was it possible that a woman I’d been with once could still tempt me more than I thought possible?
A couple of dogs bounded over as I pushed open the door, and I bent to pat one on the head. The screen door slammed, and I glanced over to the house where Emily stood on the front porch, drying her hands on a dishtowel. She caught my gaze and waved, a huge smile on her face. I grabbed my things out of the back, then followed Abel up to the house. I watched as my brother and Emily exchanged a heated glance, one of his hands going to her softly rounded stomach as he dropped a kiss on her upturned mouth.
Jealousy swirled in my heart, curdling deep in my stomach. I wasn’t envious of my brother—not exactly. I desperately wanted what Abel had—a beautiful wife, a baby on the way. A home. Emily and Abel had eyes only for each other, and I felt like an asshole for breaking the moment.
“Hey, Em.”
A vibrant smile lit her face as she opened her arms for a hug. “Hey, yourself. You home for good?”
I pulled her into an awkward embrace, careful not to put any pressure on her swollen stomach. “For a bit. Got a job lined up in Dallas.”
She stepped back, and Abel held the door for us. “Come on in and tell us all about it.”
I dropped my things in the spare bedroom, then meandered back down to the kitchen. Fifteen years later, it still looked the same as it always had, with its sturdy oak cabinets and faded, peeling wallpaper. I knew Abel’s job at the mill paid okay, but I wondered if I should offer some money. Almost immediately, I dismissed the idea. A man’s pride was a fickle thing, I thought with a grim smile. Whether it pertained to women or wallpaper, no man wanted to be wrong.