Custom Love

by Chantal Fernando

  Decker stands up and the two of them eye each other. Trade is taller than Decker, but Decker is broader. Still, they are both good looking, and it kind of seems like a photo shoot for a romance novel cover or a magazine. The hot bad boy and the hot cop—I can’t make this shit up. I want to low-key take a photo to show Bronte. I wonder if they would notice with all this posturing going on.

  Trade is definitely the one who stands out to me, though. There’s just something about him. No man could compare to him, at least not for me. Those dark eyes, that long hair, with the stubble on his cheeks.

  And his smile? Don’t get me started on that.

  I secretly pull out my phone and take a quick snap. They both instantly look at me, hearing that damn noise, so I just shrug. “That’s my text tone,” I lie.

  I send the message to Bronte with the caption Didn’t see this one coming.

  She replies straight away. Are they in your office??

  Yep.

  The men shake hands, exchange pleasantries, and then Decker finally puts me out of my misery by leaving. “I’ll call you,” he says with a wink before he closes the door. “Or maybe I’ll drop in again tomorrow morning. With coffee.”

  Shit stirrer.

  “Have a seat,” I say to Trade, gesturing to the chair Decker just vacated. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, I just thought we could have a chat. I don’t like where we left things the other night,” he admits, bringing his eyes from the door back to me, running his hand over his jawline. “You surprised me, you know? I never thought that was what you were going to say.”

  “What did you think I was going to say?”

  He clears his throat and looks away. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter now. I’m sorry for telling you to leave my house like that. That’s not how I usually handle things, but I didn’t want to say something I was going to regret, and I just needed to think. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that, and I apologize.”

  “Would you rather I not have said anything at all?” It’s something I’ve been wondering. I’ve always operated on an “honesty is the best policy” motto, but maybe in this case I shouldn’t have said anything.

  Trade takes a few seconds to think about my question. “No, I’m glad you did. It just caught me off guard,” he admits, sighing. “But I thought about it, and you know what? This is your job, and I’m not going to get in the way of that.”

  “I never wanted to hurt you, Trade,” I reply, my voice smaller than I’d like. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it earlier, as soon as I took the case on. I should have been more up-front and honest about it all, so I apologize for that. And I’m sorry that any of this happened in the first place.”

  All of it. Him losing the love of his life, the mother of his children, the family he built from love and loyalty. Bringing the case up again, along with the pain, and not telling him about it straight up...

  I’m sorry for it all.

  I also feel sorry for myself for being drawn to him, because what a fucking mess. There couldn’t be a more emotionally unavailable man.

  “I appreciate your apology,” he says, brow furrowing. “And I hope that you accept mine. It was just hard for me because I thought this whole thing was done and dusted, and I was trying to accept it and move on.”

  “I know, and of course I accept yours.”

  “So you’re not working on this case anymore?”

  “No. I told Damon’s mother that there was nothing to look into and I was done.”

  “Okay. So you didn’t find anything then, right?” He tilts his head in interest.

  “Do you really want to talk about this?” I ask, not knowing how forthcoming I should be.

  He nods.

  “No, I didn’t find anything new. But I didn’t really expect to. What drew me to the case was the lack of evidence. I’m not saying he didn’t do it, but it shocked me he was convicted on so little evidence. Everything says that he may have done it—him being at the salon when Ariel was, her being found by his house—but there is no concrete evidence. I just wanted to be sure it really was him. But I found nothing new that points to him not doing it.”

  Trade continues to nod like he’s agreeing with everything I’m saying, but I can tell that he’s zoned out a bit. After a while he looks up.

  “So we’re okay, right?” he asks, brown eyes unflinching.

  “Yeah.” I nod. “I’d like that.”

  “What’s with the cop?” he then questions, surprising me.

  “He’s a friend. I’ve know his partner, Felix, since high school, so normally Felix helps with things I need. But over the years Decker has helped when Felix couldn’t,” I explain, shifting on my chair.

  “Just a friend?” he asks, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

  “Yeah,” I reply, dragging out the word. “Just a friend. Why?”

  He nods and stands. “Just asking.”

  He now avoids my gaze, and I find myself hiding my smile. There’s only one reason he’d be asking that, so maybe my growing attraction is mutual. Or maybe I’m being hopeful.

  “Well, I like that you’re asking,” I reply boldly. “And thank you for dropping in today. I felt terrible after I left your house, and about how we left things. I didn’t know if you were ever going to speak to me again.”

  “I didn’t know either,” he replies, sighing. “Anyway, I better get back to work.”

  I stand up and walk over to give him a hug. His strong arms come around me and hold me tightly. This is the first time I’ve been this close to him, and I find myself wondering why I haven’t done this sooner. He smells so damn good, and he feels even better.

  My eyes close of their own accord, and I let out a little sigh of contentment. Trade presses his lips against my hair, and we just stay like that for a few moments.

  I lift my head up and look at him—my head comes right under his chin—then let go of his body and step away, clearing my throat.

  My voice is husky when I speak again. “I guess we both better get back to work. Thanks again for coming to see me.”

  “Talk soon,” he replies, and then disappears.

  As I stare at the closing door, I acknowledge one thing.

  I’m in trouble.

  Chapter Eleven

  “So who was the muscly guy with the man bun?” Decker asks me the next morning. “You into those man buns? I heard women dig them.”

  I can confirm that fact is true.

  “Are you here for a reason or just to gossip?” I ask, arching my brow in amusement as I take a sip of my coffee. “Do you do any work? I feel like you don’t.”

  “My favorite coffee shop happens to be near your office and I don’t officially clock in for another ten minutes,” he explains, shrugging. “Plus, I like coming to annoy you. And yes, I want to know the tea. There’s nothing wrong with that. You’re my friend, and I want to make sure that you don’t get involved with a douchebag. I’ve known you for how many years now?”

  “Three?” Decker and I met when he was assigned to be partners with Felix. I walked into the police station asking for Felix and he looked at me, confused, and asked who the hell I was.

  I grinned and replied, “Felix’s favorite PI, and I think I’m about to be yours as well.”

  We’ve kind of been friends ever since. Well, friends may be a stretch, but he’s been in my life since.

  “And you’ve always just been single. It was your thing,” he says.

  What a thing to be known for. “I highly doubt that was my thing, and for the record I’m still single,” I point out in a dry tone.

  “Yeah, but now you’re interested in someone, and I want to make sure he’s good enough,” Decker states. It’s a bit odd that he cares, but a nice sentiment all the same.

  “I see. And I told you, he’s my best friend’s
boss,” I say, wincing. It sounds stupid even to my own ears. “Okay, you want the truth?”

  “That’s why I’m here.”

  “He was Ariel’s partner.” I swallow hard.

  Decker blinks slowly a few times. “The woman whose murder you were investigating? That Ariel?”

  I nod. “Yeah, that would be the one.”

  His jaw drops. “You are more twisted than I ever thought.”

  “It’s not like that,” I correct him, groaning. “I was doing it as a favor to a family friend. And me and Trade? We are just friends, and I knew him long before this case. And nothing is going on between us. My best friend, Bronte, works at Fast & Fury Custom Motorcycles and Trade runs it. So I see him now and again at events. And that is the end of this conversation. Why don’t we talk about your love life instead?”

  “I don’t have one. I just have a lot of sex,” he replies with a cheeky grin. “It’s much easier and much more pleasurable that way. Orgasms without any of the nagging that comes with women. And I have much more sex than a married man. Do you know how much it declines when people get married? I’m not about that life.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “My married friends, although Felix is the exception. I doubt him and his wife have any issues there, but they don’t count. But any other kind of statistics you look at...” He nods sadly. “I feel sorry for my married friends. It’s an unfortunate situation that they’re in, but too late because if they divorce now they lose their kids and half of their shit. I’m never getting married.”

  “You are way too young to be that cynical,” I tell him. “Let me guess, your parents are divorced?”

  “Aren’t most these days?” he fires back with a raised brow.

  “I wouldn’t know. My parents both died. My mom when I was younger, and my dad a few years back,” I say with a shrug.

  “Ah, I’m sorry.”

  I wave the comment away. “It’s okay, it was a long time ago now.”

  I’m about to change the subject when he does it for me.

  “So I have a question...do you make a lot being a private investigator?”

  I look at him in surprise. That’s the last thing I expected him to ask. “Why, you looking for a job change? Did you realize being a cop was as boring as I knew it was going to be?” I tease.

  “No, I’m just curious. You told me you went to the police academy and, well, you’re not a cop. Wanted to see if it was for the money.”

  Ah, this question. People always ask me this. “No. I mean, I’m doing okay now, but for a while I was on the verge of closing shop. My work on a few of my high-profile cases helped get my name out there. So I’m getting jobs. But I’m only one person.”

  “Why don’t you hire someone to help?”

  “I don’t have the time to train someone. Bronte used to work for me, but now that she’s a mom, she can’t be doing overnight stakeouts anymore.” I shrug.

  “Hmm, gotcha.” He looks at his watch. “Okay, I better get to work. I’m going to speak with more of Taylor’s friends and family today to see if I can find anything else out. You have a good day. Try not to get into any trouble.”

  “I’ll try,” I call out as he leaves. Nosy-ass cop.

  I spend the morning looking for any information I can find on Mila’s biological father. It looks like the man moves around a lot, and doesn’t seem to have a permanent address. I call a few of the contact numbers, but they are all disconnected. I make a note to look into his acquaintances later on. When lunchtime hits I head over to Fast & Fury to pick up Bronte for our lunch date.

  “Hey,” Trade says when he spots me, putting down the folder in his hands. “Nice to see your face back around here.”

  “Nice to be able to walk back through the entrance without wondering if the manager is going to have security escort me back to my car,” I admit, lip twitching. “Where is Bronte?”

  “She’s out back with Cam,” he says, sitting back on Bronte’s desk. “So do you have any plans tonight?” he asks, just as Bronte walks out of the staff room, smiling when she sees me.

  “I’m ready to eat,” she announces.

  I grin and bring my eyes back to Trade. “Nothing, why?” I’ll probably just bring my paperwork home with me, go over it all night and order some Chinese food.

  “Maybe we could have dinner? I can cook, or maybe I’ll just order us something in.” He pauses, and adds, “If you don’t mind having dinner with me plus four kids.”

  My eyes widen, surprised by his bold offer. “Oh. Um...”

  “If you don’t want to, that’s fine,” he says quickly.

  “No, I’d love to,” I say, my lips moving before thinking.

  “How’s seven?”

  “Perfect. I’ll see you then,” I reply, just as Bronte swings past and grabs me by the arm, leading me outside.

  “Where are we going to eat?” she asks, and then as soon as we are out of earshot, “And what the hell was all that? What have I missed? I know he was in your office yesterday morning alongside the hot cop, but what else has happened?”

  “We sorted it out,” I explain. “And now he wants to hang out tonight. I know you don’t love the idea—”

  “You are both adults. You know I just worry about you both, but do what makes you happy, Nadia. That’s all I want for you, to be happy.”

  “And careful.”

  She laughs. “And careful. I’m glad it’s not awkward now and you can come see me at work again.”

  “Yeah, and now he’s asked me to come to his house tonight for dinner with him and the kids... What does this all even mean?” I blurt out. “What am I doing, Bronte? Is this even a good idea?”

  “I don’t know,” she admits. It’s what she’s been trying to tell me the whole time.

  I couldn’t have chosen a more complicated situation to put myself in, and I can see it not ending well, see it playing out badly, yet I’m still going along with it.

  I like to think that I’m a rational, logical person, but when it comes to Trade, I don’t care about anything else; it all just gets pushed to the side. My common sense goes AWOL. How stupid is that? If I get hurt along the way, I only have myself to blame.

  This is all on me.

  “I don’t want to get hurt. And there are so many variables that could end up that way. And it’s not just him. He comes with a family already. What if the kids don’t want us to date or they end up not liking me?”

  “You can’t think of it like that. Yes, he’s a single parent, but so are lots of people. Yes, he comes with a premade family, and yes, there might be some obstacles with that, and I think you need to be okay with that. It’s not going to be easy. You are not choosing the easiest path right now, and you need to be aware of what you are walking into.”

  “I know.” I sigh. “I’m trying not to overthink it. I just enjoy spending time with him. I don’t want to worry about possible future problems, but at the same time it’s probably smart if I do.”

  “Yes, it’s a little complicated, but if it’s meant to be, then it will work out. And if it doesn’t...”

  “If it doesn’t, it’s going to hurt like a bitch and I’m going to learn a hard lesson.”

  “Something like that.”

  I guess I’m a hidden romantic, because I’m going in and just hoping for the best. With Trade, turning away doesn’t seem to be an option. Maybe I’m just a sucker for punishment, or maybe I’m a fool, but I want to see where this leads us.

  I just hope I don’t regret it.

  Chapter Twelve

  Trade opens the door with a warm smile, and I can’t help but return it.

  “I brought dessert,” I say, holding up the tray.

  “I can see that. I just ordered some pizza. I hope that’s okay—the kids insisted.”

  “Pizza is fine with me,
” I say, stepping inside. He takes the dessert from me, and leads me to the kitchen. The kids are all watching a movie, but stop and say hello when they notice me.

  “You brought two desserts?” Trade asks, amusement laced in his tone.

  “Well, I didn’t know if the kids would like blueberry cheesecake,” I explain. “So I got backup chocolate cupcakes. Everyone likes chocolate.”

  “They will eat anything with sugar, I promise you. Can I get you something to drink? Soda, wine or beer?” he offers, opening the fridge and scanning what’s inside. “You know, I should thank you. AJ has been in the kitchen trying all the recipes in that cookbook you gave him for his birthday—it’s been awesome. I think he can take over as head chef soon enough.”

  “I thought he would like it...well, I hoped he would,” I reply, smiling. “And a beer sounds great.”

  “Beer it is.” He grabs two out of the fridge and hands me one of them.

  “Thank you.”

  He then leads me outside, where we sit on the big comfortable chairs on his patio.

  “It’s so quiet out here.”

  “I know, it’s my little escape,” he admits. It must be hard being the sole parent, and knowing that the weight of raising children lands on you alone. I can’t imagine how strong of a person he must be to be doing that, and doing it so well.

  “You are a wonderful dad, you know that?” I say, taking a sip of the ice-cold drink.

  “I try. You never know if you are doing it completely right, but you kind of follow your gut and hope for the best,” he says before pausing. “Temper and I didn’t have the best childhood, and I never wanted that for my own children. I’ve made a lot of mistakes along the way, but I do the best that I can.”

  “That’s all anyone can do.”

  “Are you close to your family?” he asks.

  “I don’t have much family,” I explain.

  “So it’s just you out here alone?” he asks.