Kristen Ashley - Games of the Heart

I nodded.

“Rhonda, keep at her. Just keep talking to her. Do it steady, do it firm. Watch and take a read as you’re talkin’. You’ll know, she doesn’t snap out of it, when the time will be to shake her up a bit.”

I nodded again.

“In the meantime, until I feel it’s cool to introduce you to the mix of bodies sleepin’ under this roof when my kids are in their beds, every other Friday night to Sunday morning, you plan to sleep in this bed with me.”

I nodded again this time smiling.

“That a plan?” he asked.

“It’s a plan,” I whispered.

“As it goes, there’s shit you don’t like, anytime, honey, I want you to know you can talk it through with me.”

I figured that already but I loved having it confirmed.

“Thanks, Mike.”

“Anytime, Angel,” he said gently before he dropped his head and touched his mouth to mine.

Then he rolled back, shifting and adjusting so he could yank the covers from under us and we resumed our positions with the sheets up to our waists.

“TV, conversation or making out?” Mike offered me a selection and I lifted my head to look down at him.

“Audrey,” I picked a choice he didn’t offer and I saw the shadow of what appeared to be mild irritation drift through his face. Although I saw it, I knew he wasn’t feeling it about me.

Last Saturday I discovered the bad news about Audrey Haines was that she did not have horns, fangs, acid green eyes or matted hair. She was tall, trim but built and there was a reason her genes mixed with Mike’s made such gorgeous kids. She wasn’t a striking beauty like her daughter and I wasn’t a guy but I still knew she was a woman who a man would look at twice. Her thing definitely wasn’t my thing because her clothes were obviously top-of-the-line, classically fashionable and she wore them well. But, even though Mike was now with me, I hated it, but I could totally see him with her. If I didn’t know what happened behind the scenes, they were definitely a couple that fit. He was gorgeously handsome, she was exceptionally pretty. He wore clothes well and had a confident manner; she wore good clothes stylishly and had a remote bearing that was nonetheless attractive.

The weird news was that she seemed entirely removed from both her kids. At first I thought they were pissed about what she’d done regarding the party. But it wasn’t that. Their relationship with their Dad was obviously close, deep, warm, often-times teasing, definitely parent/child with a constant vibe of loving.

Audrey Haines had none of that with her kids.

And the last news was discomfiting. This being that she watched her kids and Mike nearly throughout the party in a pensive way that made me think she was planning something.

It didn’t help when Mike, who told me he never spoke to her, ended up on the back deck with her. Their conversation was short and clearly, from Mike’s expression upon return, not pleasant. But she’d broken the seal and she’d walked into the party planning to do just that.

I didn’t know her. What I did know was that she and Mike had been divorced for nearly three years, separated for some time before that so I found it not a coincidence that when another woman hit the scene, she instigated contact.

I’d let this slide mainly because we’d not had personal time to discuss it.

Now we needed to discuss it.

Mike didn’t hesitate laying it out.

“She informed me she has a new job, this was what took her away that day and made her fuck up her part of the party. She’s getting better pay and she’s moving to a bigger apartment in Indy.”

I didn’t think any of that was bad.

So I asked, “Isn’t all this good, including her melting the freeze on communication?”

“With Audrey I learned to be suspicious of everything, especially shit that on the surface seems good.”

I rubbed my lips together. Mike watched this for a second before his eyes came back to mine and he continued laying it out. This time, it was bad.

“Suspicious this time would include the fact that she hasn’t spoken to me in I don’t know how long but offered to meet me at her complex and show me her new place.”

There it was, bad.

“Oh boy,” I muttered.

“Yeah,” he replied. “She didn’t say shit. She didn’t act like a bitch. She didn’t pitch a fit. But she also made it clear she understood I was movin’ on with you and it wasn’t her favorite thing.”

“Oh boy,” I repeated on a mutter.

“Angel,” he said on an arm squeeze, “I hope you get I am never, ever goin’ back there.”

I took in a deep breath and nodded.

“She might be gearin’ up to play games but whatever game she thinks she’s gonna play will end up as solitaire,” he assured me.

“Okay,” I replied quietly.

His face shifted, hardening slightly and he went on, “Since we’re talkin’ about pain in the ass exes, you don’t talk to Beau LeBrec. Ever. He calls, you don’t answer. But if he calls, you tell me.”

“Mike –”

He shook his head and his arms gave me a different kind of squeeze. The warning kind.

“No discussion. This is Mike Haines the cop who’s seen a fair few of these kinds of guys and the damage they can wreak if they don’t clue in talking. And it’s the Mike Haines talking who’s your man who does not want his woman who’s got a full plate dealin’ with this kind of guy or enduring the damage he can wreak.”

“If he doesn’t clue in, what are you going to do?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I do know what I’m not gonna do and that is allow him to continue to be a clueless pain in the ass when it comes to you.”

“Maybe I should talk to Hunter,” I muttered.

“No, I’ll be callin’ Rivera.”

I wasn’t sure that was good.

“Mike –” I started but stopped when I got yet another arm squeeze.

“You told your girl about you and me and she told Rivera,” he surmised.

“Uh…yeah,” I confirmed hesitantly.

“Women talk, Dusty, this is not something I’m just learning. And their favorite topic of conversation is dissecting a guy who acted like a dick.”

This was true, he clearly knew it so I decided not to confirm this verbally.

He grinned and it was a relief to see he was entirely unoffended.

Then he stated, “Rivera is not doin’ this for me. He’s doin’ it for you. And he needs to know LeBrec contacted you again. And I need to know what he intends to do about that at his end. He might not like it at first but he’ll get me and then he’ll tell me.”

“Okay, I’ll leave the man communication and cop bonding to the men who also happen to be cops.”

“Good call,” he muttered.

“And I won’t answer if Beau calls.”

“No, you won’t.”

I rolled my eyes. Mike gave me another arm squeeze.

It was time to move on.

“Right, so, I picked what we did last. Your turn.”

His face changed again and it changed in a way I liked a whole lot.

“I got choices?” he asked quietly, his face and an underlying note in his voice that was beyond sexy making “Little Dusty” do a little shiver.

“I’m open to suggestions.”

Mike rolled me, ending on top again but this time with his lips at my ear where he murmured, “You whispered a lot of dirty shit to me over the phone and you seriously got off on what I did earlier. How dirty can my girl be?”

“Little Dusty” didn’t shiver with that. “Little Dusty” did a full on shake.

“I’m willing to explore the boundaries of dirty,” I murmured back.

“Then on your belly, honey, and take off the tee. I’m gonna start with your back.”

He was going to start with my back?

At that, “Little Dusty” rocked the core of me.

“Okay,” I whispered.

Mike moved away.

I did as I was told.

Then we spent a goodly amount of time exploring the boundaries of dirty and through it I discovered that good guy Mike Haines had a multitude of nuances.

And some of them were very, very bad.

So bad, they were awesome.

But in the end, I fell asleep in good guy Mike’s arms, his eyes were to the TV and before we’d settled in, he’d gone to open the door and let in his dog. So not only did I fall asleep in Mike’s arms, I fell asleep in a bed that included a golden retriever.

And before I drifted off to sleep with the television news my lullaby, I remembered exactly how much I liked falling asleep in Mike Haines’s arms.

But it was better in a huge, comfortable, scarily expensive bed with a dog.

Unbelievably better.

* * *

I woke when Mike shifted out from under me and Layla jerked to her belly then jumped off the bed.

My eyes fluttered open then started to close before I realized that Mike wasn’t rounding the bed to use the bathroom. From the direction of where Layla’s jingling dog tags were going, he was exiting the room.

My eyes opened to see the dark shadows of sheets. It took a while but in the distance I finally heard Layla’s tags coming back. She hopped on the bed before Mike shifted back under me.

“Getting a drink?” I mumbled sleepily, my body settling into his, my eyes drifting closed, my arm snaking across his gut.

“Walkthrough,” he mumbled back and my eyes drifted back open.

“What?”

“Walkthrough, sweetheart,” he said, his arm curled around my back giving me a squeeze. “Go back to sleep.”

“Walkthrough for what?” I asked the shadowed planes and angles of his chest.

“The house,” he replied.

“For what?” I kind of repeated. “Did you hear something?”

“No.”

“But –”

“Once in a while, I just do it.”

“Why?”

“Because I give a shit about what’s sleepin’ under my roof. So I wake up in the night, scan the feel of my place and if I feel like it, I get up and walk through. It takes a minute, it makes me feel better and I can lie my head down and know the thing I give a shit about that’s sleepin’ under my roof is doing it safely.”

Seriously, he was killing me.

“I’m an independent woman,” I announced to his chest and his arm gave me another squeeze.

“I know, honey.”

“I can take care of myself,” I informed him.

“I know,” he whispered.

“But what you just said, what you did earlier, carrying me around the room, I’ve never had that. And I loved it. Since I’ve never had it, I didn’t know how good it would feel. And it feels good when you take care of me.”

As I spoke, his body went still except his arm went super tight, pressing me deep into his long, warm, hard frame.

I tilted my head back and with my lips to the underside of his jaw, I whispered, “Talking through stuff with me, listening to me, taking care of me, none of that I ever really had. Ever, honey. Not like this. Thank you for giving that to me.”

His chin dipped and his neck twisted so his lips were a breath away from mine, he whispered back, “You’re welcome, Dusty.”

“You should know I feel safe in a lot of ways with you, Mike Haines, and not just sleeping under your roof.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, rolling me, his mouth taking mine in a soft, sweet, middle of the night kiss that said a whole lot without a single word.

I ended up on my back with Mike pressed into me.

“I dicked you around,” he whispered, “and you just gave me that.”

“I forgave you, remember?”

“I dicked you around and you just gave me that,” he repeated.

“Yeah,” I replied softly.

“Thank you, Angel.” He sounded like he meant it. A whole lot.

“You’re welcome, gorgeous.” I knew I meant it the same way.

He touched his mouth to mine then settled but not rolling us back to where we were. He put his head to the pillow, pressed his face into the side of mine and pulled my body deep under his before he tangled his legs with mine.

Layla did some fidgeting then settled with a groan.

“Now, go back to sleep,” Mike ordered.

“All right, Mike.”

“’Night, darlin’.”

“’Night, honey.”

My hand slid down his warm, sleek skin from his lat to his waist.

He tucked me tighter to him.

Yeah, I felt safe. Definitely.

Then I fell asleep.

Tuesday morning, Mike was sitting behind his desk at the Station, the phone to his ear when he saw Joe “Cal” Callahan saunter up the steps to the bullpen wearing his winter uniform of faded jeans, tight black t-shirt, black motorcycle boots and black leather jacket.