Mystery Man

by Kristen Ashley

  “You left out the yolks,” I informed him.

  “Babe,” he replied, then he shuffled me a few feet in order to get to a drawer, he opened it, grabbed a fork and shuffled me back to his plate. I watched him cut into the omelet and then I watched the fork as he lifted a piece to his mouth. I kept watching as he chewed and swallowed, his eyes on me. “You want one?” he asked.

  I fought back a lip curl by pressing them together and shook my head.

  He chuckled, deep and manly. Then he went back to his omelet.

  I slid out from under his arm and walked to the fridge. There was a big, rectangular magnet on the side, printed on it a tiny calendar (and, incidentally, this calendar was two years old). On top of the calendar it said, “Zip’s Gun Emporium” and under that in italics “For all your gun and ammo needs”. It was my only choice, Hawk didn’t decorate his fridge with cute magnets and photos and stupid shit like I did.

  I resolved to buy a good magnet, one of those clear, plastic picture frame ones or maybe one that had a nice edging and before I could lose my nerve, I unfolded the photo and stuck it to the fridge with Zip’s calendar magnet.

  Then I slowly turned to face Hawk and braced.

  My eyes hit his, his eyes were on the photo and his face was that blank mask.

  “Drop the mask, Cabe,” I ordered gently and his eyes sliced to me.

  “I appreciate what you’re tryin’ to do, Gwen, but not ready for that shit,” he replied.

  “You carry them in your wallet,” I pointed out, still speaking gently.

  “Not ready for that shit, Gwen,” he repeated.

  “Then you need to get ready,” I returned quietly, “because, see, last night, when you forgave me, I entered Badass World but you entered Cosmo Girl World and in Cosmo Girl World, there are rules. You don’t live a narrow life that includes nothing but work and work-related leisure activities. You don’t wipe your environment clean of personality. And you don’t keep your emotions in a stranglehold. You go to movies. You go out to nice restaurants. You go out to not-so-nice restaurants if they have fantastic food. You sit around with friends doing nothing but drinking, eating, laughing and bonding. You inject your personality and taste in your surroundings so when people who care about you visit you, they can be surrounded by you. We’re starting with that,” I pointed at the picture, “by bringing Simone and Sophie into the light because there are people in your life who miss them, not as much as you do but they do. And you miss them and they don’t belong folded up and hidden in your wallet, they belong out in the open.” I paused, sucked in breath and finished. “We’ll graduate to the air hockey table.”

  The mask cracked when his lips twitched and his eyebrows went up.

  “Air hockey table?”

  “I vote that first, pool table next and then ping pong. Along the back wall. That is, after you put in a downstairs bathroom, maybe a sauna and also a hot tub,” I added extras as they came to me.

  He lost his fight with his smile and ordered softly, “Come here, Sweet Pea.”

  I walked to him and he folded me in his arms.

  I tipped my head back just in time for his mouth to touch mine.

  When he lifted his head he whispered, “All right, they can come into the light.”

  “Thanks, baby,” I whispered back. “But they already are, aren’t they?”

  His brows drew together. “Come again?”

  “That chair, rug, table and lamp,” I replied. “That’s from your life with them.”

  His arms got tight, super tight and I held him close as he battled then he relaxed and nodded.

  “Her parents were nightmares so she pretty much grew up with her grandparents. Those are from their house. They were movin’ to Florida when we were startin’ out so they gave them to us and Simone liked havin’ them around so even when we started gettin’ our own shit, she never got rid of them. When she was nursing Sophie, she always sat in that chair and if I was feedin’ her, I always took my girl and did it in that chair. We didn’t live in Denver, we lived in South Carolina but when they died, I got out of the Army first chance I could get and moved back to Denver. Before that, I sold everything, everything from our life, except that chair and everything around it.”

  I closed my eyes, planted my face in his chest and sighed.

  Well, I guess if he was going to keep something, he picked the right things. The things Simone treasured and the things that surrounded him with memories of his wife and himself nurturing their baby daughter.

  God.

  “I can’t imagine carrying the weight of your loss, baby,” I whispered into his chest and his hand came to the back of my neck and gave it a squeeze.

  “Hope to Christ you never do,” he whispered back.

  I nodded. I hoped so too.

  His hand left my neck and came to my chin, lifting it up. I opened my eyes and his knuckles swept down my cheek.

  I really liked it when he did that.

  “Speakin’ of that, Sweet Pea, you got a call to make.”

  I sighed again. Then I nodded.

  “One thing,” he stated when I started to pull away.

  I stopped and tipped my head to the side.

  He grinned and decreed, “We’re startin’ with the hot tub.”

  I pressed my chest deep into his and grinned back.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Drowning

  “Babe, seriously?”

  I jumped and whirled to see Hawk standing in the bathroom door looking hot wearing a dark gray suit and deep red shirt opened at the collar.

  “Jeez, Cabe, you scared the crap out of me.”

  His eyes shifted the length of me then came back to mine.

  “I’m twenty minutes late and you’re still not ready?”

  I turned to the bathroom mirror, lifted my mascara wand and ignored his impatient question. “How do you do that anyway?”

  “Gwen, babe, we gotta go. Why are you runnin’ so late? You aren’t even dressed.”

  “Well, I made a shoe decision change,” I stroked mascara on my lashes. “I’m not wearing the Choos. I’m wearing the Valentinos.”

  “A shoe decision change leads to bein’ more than twenty minutes late?”

  “The Choos are silver. The Valentinos are a blush. Sure, the Valentinos have crystal and mesh but I’d gone gray, smoky and drama. The blush requires soft pink, glimmer and dewy. That required total cleanse off and reapplication of makeup,” I explained.

  Hawk was silent and my eyes shifted to him.

  Nope, no less impatient even with an explanation.

  I tried a different tactic.

  “I won’t be a minute,” I assured him on a complete lie.

  He dug his phone out of the inside of his jacket pocket, flipped it open, hit some buttons and put it to his ear. His eyes came back to me. My eyes went back to the mirror and my mascara wand went back to swiping.

  Then I felt his presence leave and I heard him say, “Bax, Gwen’s runnin’ late. We’re still at her house but leavin’ in five.”

  I finished my makeup and went to my bedroom. Hawk was whereabouts unknown. This happened a lot even though my house wasn’t a rambling mansion. Hawk, I’d discovered, could disappear yet stick around just as easily as he could vanish into or appear out of thin air.

  At first I found this disturbing. Now I was used to it.

  I spritzed with perfume, put the diamond studs in my ears that Dad and Meredith gave me upon graduation from U of C and I slipped off my robe and started to dress.

  As it was a special occasion, I’d, of course, made a new purchase. I’d done the unthinkable and moved away from the little black dress. This was a little, shimmery, dove gray dress. It had barely there straps that held up a draped bodice and the rest of the dress to my sides just behind my armpits. It had no back. At all. The little drape at the back rested against my upper ass. It was short, the skirt hugged my hips, the material clingy on the rest of me.

  It was perfect for the
Choos. The thing was, three weeks ago, I was shopping with Elvira and I tried on the Valentinos. The Valentinos were the dream, la-la land of shoes. Blush satin. Four and three quarter inch spiked heel with platform at the sole. Peep-toed pump with a huge see through, multi-layered mesh bow lined in satin and crystals with more crystals leading up in bands around the foot to the bow on the toe. They were to-die-for. They were to-kill-for. They were the impossible dream.

  That was until I thanked the shoe person and started to put them back in their box, Elvira whipped out her phone, called Hawk, got the go ahead and then whipped out the company credit card.

  She was in throes of ecstasy. I called Hawk and told him he couldn’t possibly considering they cost nearly double the price of the Choos.

  His reply, “Babe,” then disconnect.

  Elvira bought the shoes. Thirty minutes later, I bought a boatload of sexy underwear, the sexiest of which I put on under my clothes so Hawk could discover them, like unwrapping a present. When he did, he took one look, his pupils dilated instantaneously and it took him approximately three point two five seconds to take them off.

  At that point, I decided that I’d have to find another form of gratitude.

  I was still searching.

  I pulled on the dress and sat on the side of the bed, opening the shoebox and unveiling the Valentinos.

  I had vowed to myself to take them back and return them.

  I changed my mind.

  Then I had vowed to myself I would never wear them. I couldn’t possibly walk on what was more than most people’s monthly mortgage payments.

  However, I again changed my mind.

  I was sliding on shoe two when Hawk walked in my bedroom door.

  I put my foot to the floor and looked up at him, standing. “Glad you’re here, baby, I need you to help me with my bracelet.”

  I walked to the dresser and opened my jewelry drawer, unearthing the Tiffany’s box.

  He’d bought me a diamond bracelet too, just as he said, that very next day after we became us for the second time. I told him he couldn’t possibly do that either and when in the store, refused to pick one. So he did.

  I pulled the bracelet out of the box and shut the drawer just when I felt Hawk’s fingertips on the skin of my side right where the material started. Those fingertips became a hand gliding into my dress, across my ribs and then up where they cupped my opposite breast. Then he pulled me into his front.

  “Hawk,” I whispered, my head falling back to his shoulder as his thumb swept my nipple and I repeated, “Hawk.”

  “Hold onto the dresser, baby,” he muttered into my ear.

  “What?” I breathed as his other hand tugged up the skirt of my dress.

  “Hold on,” he ordered.

  “We’re late,” I reminded him then sucked in breath when I got another nipple swipe.

  “We’re gonna be later,” Hawk replied.

  “But –”

  “Hold on,” he repeated, his hand sliding into the front of my panties.

  Oh God.

  He hit the golden spot.

  Oh God.

  My head turned so my forehead was pressed to his neck.

  “We’ll be quick now,” he whispered. “But later, I’ll show you how I really feel about this dress.”

  “’Kay,” I agreed but I did it on a moan because the fingers on both his hands moved.

  * * * * *

  I crossed my legs in the Camaro, studying my shoes at the same time adjusting my bracelet on my wrist for no reason except I liked to remind myself it was there.

  “Okay, well, we have to come up with an excuse. You needing to work and me needing a makeup change isn’t going to cut it. We’re seriously late,” I said into the car.

  “Babe, we don’t need an excuse. Anyone who sees you in that dress and those shoes will know exactly why we’re late.”

  I felt my face pale, actually felt it, and turned my head to look at him. “That isn’t true.”

  “Okay, I’ll amend my statement. Any man who sees you in that dress and those shoes will know exactly why we’re late. Including your Dad.”

  “Ack!” I gagged then put my hands up to my ears and chanted, “La la la.”

  Through my chanting I heard Hawk laugh.

  When it seemed it was safe, I stopped chanting and dropped my hands.

  Hawk started speaking. “Got an interesting call today.”

  “Yeah?” I prompted when he said no more.

  “Developers,” he replied and I turned to look at him again. “This is their fourth call in as many months. They want the warehouse and the space around it, all of which I own. They’ve been offering bullshit but their offer today got motivating.”

  “What?” I whispered.

  It had been four months since Hawk and I went back to us. Four really good months. It was the beginning of July. The weather was nice. The days were long. Our passion (obviously) hadn’t cooled. But things had changed.

  Now I was tied so tight to him I was certain I’d never get loose and I didn’t want to. The same with being in so deep, I’d never surface.

  But, even drowning in Hawk, I didn’t lose a hint of me.

  I lived my life, edited my books, met my girls, went shopping, went out to dinner, went to movies, sometimes alone, sometimes with my friends and sometimes he was a part of that.

  Hawk worked and he worked a lot. But when he was with me, I had his total focus. We’d seen several movies together and we went out to dinner often, mainly because I didn’t eat like he did (and wasn’t going to) and he could order food like he liked and I didn’t have to cook two meals (though, on occasion, I did this too). When he had time, he’d hang at mine or I’d hang at his.

  No matter if our days took us separate ways, we slept together every night. Sometimes he’d be with me and we’d go to bed together. Sometimes I’d feel his warm hand on the small of my back in the middle of the night. Sometimes he’d call and tell me he wanted me at his place and I’d go. I had a key, though he didn’t have one to mine (that I knew of) but he didn’t need one.

  Our relationship wasn’t easy. It wasn’t mellow. It wasn’t comfortable and sedate. He was too bossy and I was too much of a smartass. We bantered and sometimes we fought. But I’d learned I was completely unable to endure Hawk being mad at me and then I’d noticed that Hawk felt the same. No grudges were ever held. We created sparks but those sparks never caught the kind of fire that could do damage. Instead, we got over it and moved on.

  And I liked this. This was good. I liked him in my space and I liked to be in his. I had sweet pea lotion and bath wash at his. My own stick of deodorant was in his medicine cabinet. He had one in mine, it stood next to his razor. I’d bought a sweet frame for Simone and Sophie and at the same time I bought two more. One had a picture of Hawk and me that Tracy took at Leo’s birthday party. I was pressed against Hawk’s side, my arms around him, my head tipped back, my nose pressed to his jaw and I was laughing. Hawk had his arm around my shoulders and he was looking slightly down and to the side, also laughing. That picture was on Hawk’s fridge. The other frame was on mine and it had a picture in it that Elvira took. We were walking through the surveillance room at his base, my arm curled around his back, his around my shoulders. Hawk’s head was turned to the side and he was looking at and listening to Jorge. I was looking over my shoulder at Elvira and laughing at something she said. I loved that photo, I didn’t know why, maybe the fact it was a candid that captured the casual way we were together, holding each other, walking together, Hawk’s profile so handsome, my face looking happy. And, of course, I was having a really good hair day.

  He couldn’t sell the warehouse. We were settled. We had a system. We had a way that was our way.

  And where would we set up the air hockey table (when he bought it)?

  “You’re thinking of selling?” I asked.

  “Yeah, they got that kind of cake, they want it so they’ll offer more. They offer more, seriously, babe, be
a fool not to.”

  “But I thought you liked the warehouse. I thought you needed space. There’s not a lot of places you can get that kind of space, Cabe.”

  “Findin’ I don’t need that kind of space anymore, Sweet Pea, and you can’t raise kids in a place like that.”

  I sucked in so much air it was a wonder Hawk didn’t immediately pass out due to lack of oxygen.

  “Gwen?” he called.

  “Kids?” I choked.

  He was silent. So was I mostly because I was struggling for breath as visions of dark-haired, dimple-faced baby commandos wearing miniature cargo pants danced through my head.

  Finally he muttered, “Fuck.”

  “Fuck what?” I asked.

  “Shit, babe, saw you with Crisanto and Javier, thought you liked kids.”

  “I –”

  “Thought you liked ‘em so much, you’d want ‘em.”

  “I –”

  “Fuck, Gwen.”

  “Fuck what?” My voice was rising mainly because I was freaking out but also because he wasn’t letting me talk.

  He pulled to the side of the road, stopped, turned to me and his eyes caught mine.

  Then he muttered again, “Fuck.”

  “Fuck what!” I almost shouted.

  “It isn’t a good time to talk about this.”

  “Hawk, you need –”

  “It’s your parents’ anniversary.”

  “Hawk!” I snapped. “You need to tell me what’s flipping you out.”

  “I want kids.”

  I stared at him, my heart beating so hard I could swear my dress fluttered.

  He wasn’t saying he wanted kids as much as he was saying he wanted kids with me.

  I mean, he wanted kids, but he was saying he wanted kids with me.

  Cabe “Hawk” Delgado wanted kids with me!

  Yay!

  Oh shit. I was going to start crying and ruin my makeup.

  “It’s important to me, baby,” he said softly.

  I swallowed. Then I asked, “How many do you want?”

  “Two or three.”