Kristen Ashley - Mystery Man

He smiled.

Then he straightened and moved into me so the foot that separated us became more like six inches.

Or less.

Then his hand came up and he rested it on my waist and before I could say anything or move, he started talking.

“I don’t want to offend you when I say this but after last night, I need to say it.”

Uh-oh.

I’d tipped my head to look up in his soulful eyes and they seemed more soulful than ever.

“What?” I asked before I could get lost in his soulful eyes.

He hesitated then stated, “Your sister, Ginger, she’s not too smart.”

Oh. Well, I’d expected something else. I didn’t know what but, seeing as his hand was on my waist and he was in my space, it wasn’t Ginger.

“I kind of know that,” I replied.

“You probably know this too and if you didn’t before the last coupla nights, then you do now, but she doesn’t think about who she’s draggin’ into this.”

“Yes, the last couple of nights I’ve learned that.”

He nodded. Then he said, “So, the favor I’m askin’, if you see her again, I want you to call me.”

My body got tight but it was only automatically, nevertheless, he felt it and he got closer, his hand gripping my waist, his other hand lifting to do the same on the other side.

“I can’t say what’s gonna happen to her. If she plays it smart, if we can cut a deal, if we can protect her. There are no promises here, Gwendolyn. What I can say is, whatever happens, she’s safer with us than she is on the street and you are definitely safer if she’s with us and not on the street.”

I could see this.

He kept going. “And, for you, we get her in custody, I’ll do what I can for her.”

Oh. Wow.

“Thanks,” I whispered.

His fingers dug in, giving me a squeeze as his mouth gave me a smile.

“Just want to be clear, I don’t want you to try to detain her. But if you see her, she shows, she gets in contact with you, you won’t be helpin’ her out, even if she tells you you are, by keepin’ it from us. Just call me, tell me what she said, where you saw her and if you know where she intends to go.”

“You want me to inform on my sister,” I surmised.

“Yeah,” he replied, no hesitation, no bullshit.

“Okay,” I agreed, no hesitation either.

He smiled again.

Then his fingers gave me another squeeze and he asked, “How’re you handlin’ this?”

God, he was nice.

“Well, there are life lessons I’d prefer to learn, say, how to make the perfect soufflé, not that I can keep my head in a crisis that involves fiery destruction but I’m doing okay.”

His brows went up. “You want to learn to make the perfect soufflé?”

“Um…” I was uncertain where to put my hands. There wasn’t enough space and I was carrying my clutch and wrap. But when his fingers gripped me again and pulled me an inch closer I had no choice but to lift them and rest them on his chest. Hmm. That was better. “Not really,” I went on. “More like, I’d like to learn to make chocolate chip cookie dough in thirty seconds or less.”

He smiled yet again.

“But I wouldn’t be adverse to learning to make the perfect soufflé,” I continued, “if it was chocolate.”

His smile deepened.

Yowza!

Then his smile faded and his face got soft as did his voice. “Lotsa shit happenin’, Gwendolyn, scary shit. You sure you’re okay?”

Totally nice.

“Yeah,” I whispered then, do not ask me why, I went on to share, “but I’m a little worried about Meredith. She’s using the fire as an excuse to buy a new couch and have a few days of rest and relaxation but I can tell she’s upset; she’s just not talking about it. And I don’t want to bring it up if she doesn’t want to talk about it but, Ginger, she’s Meredith’s daughter and I think –”

“She loves you,” he cut me off.

“What?”

“I could see it last night, the night before, she cares about you. Ginger is her daughter and her daughter is bringing you trouble, your Dad too. She feels responsible for that and she doesn’t know what to do with it.”

He was probably right.

Lawson continued. “You need to talk to her about it. Assure her you don’t hold her responsible. Take that load off her because she’s gonna be focusing on other shit too, like the trouble Ginger has made for herself. She doesn’t need to worry about how you feel about the trouble Ginger is bringing on you.”

“You’re right,” I said quietly.

He lifted a hand and tucked hair behind my ear while his soulful, dark brown eyes watched then he rested his hand curled around my neck, his warm palm at my throat.

This was nice too. Too nice.

His eyes came back to mine. “Yeah, I’m right.”

“We’re not like this, Meredith, Dad and me,” I assured him quickly, not certain why I was doing it, just feeling the need to do it. “Ginger is…” I shook my head, “she’s different than the rest of us. I don’t know why, she just always has been. She’s –”

“I know, Gwendolyn,” he said gently in a way that made me know he knew.

I nodded, feeling relief and his fingers gave my neck a squeeze.

Right then the backdoor opened; Lawson and my heads turned and Hawk was there.

He was wearing much what he was wearing the first time I laid eyes on him. The tailored shirt was midnight blue this time but no less fantastic. Jeans. Boots. Great belt. Black leather jacket that was an awesome style and hung great on his broad shoulders. And a Nordstrom’s bag dangling from his hand. No, a Nordstrom’s shoe bag dangling from his hand.

My body stiffened and Lawson’s hands gripped me tighter.

Hawk closed the door behind him but didn’t tear his eyes from Lawson and me.

Then he put his hands on his hips, the bag banging against his thigh.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” I said hurriedly.

“Yeah,” Lawson replied at the same time.

I took a careful step back and Lawson’s hands fell away.

This was when Lawson and Hawk went into a macho man, death match stare down.

I stepped into the non-verbal, motionless fray before it became verbal and full of motion.

“He just came by to ask me to call if I see or hear from Ginger,” I explained to Hawk.

Hawk’s eyes had cut to me when I spoke but the second I finished, they cut back to Lawson.

“Thought I made myself clear,” he growled.

“You did,” Lawson returned. “But you’ll remember, I didn’t agree.”

“You do not use my woman to make your career,” Hawk went on like Lawson didn’t speak.

I pressed my lips together and got tense mainly because I felt anger, and a lot of it, rolling off Lawson then I heard it in the rumble of his quiet voice.

“Careful,” he warned.

“She is not in this,” Hawk continued. “Ginger doesn’t exist for her. That’s what’s in here and that’s what’s communicated on the street.”

“Last two nights proved that wrong, Hawk, Ginger’s unpredictable and you know it.”

“Right, but any of that shit goes down, it gets communicated through me, not Gwen.”

“She gets desperate,” Lawson started, “and by the way, Ginger Kidd passed desperate about a week ago, she’s gonna make extreme choices. Gwendolyn is in that line of fire. You and your boys are good, Hawk, but you can’t cover her twenty-four, seven and keep your other shit in line.”

“Let me worry about that,” Hawk returned.

“She needs to know what to do,” Lawson replied.

“Yeah, and I’ll tell her,” Hawk shot back.

Another macho man, death match stare down ensued but luckily before it could advance to hand-to-hand combat, Lawson broke the stare down and looked at me.

“You have my card,” he said and I nodded because I did have his card, I just didn’t know what happened to it. He nodded back and finished, “I’ll let myself out.”

Then he leaned into me, right in front of Hawk, bent and kissed the hinge of my jaw, his lips causing goose bumps to rise on my skin.

Oh boy.

He lifted his head, looked in my eyes and whispered, “Stay safe, you need anything, even if it’s just to talk, call me.”

I nodded.

His gaze sliced through Hawk then he walked out of the kitchen and into the living room.

I watched while practicing deep breathing. Then, slowly, I turned to Hawk to see he hadn’t moved. He was still standing there with his hands to his hips, the Nordstrom’s bag hanging from his fingers, his eyes on me with a look in them that could only be described as un… hap… pee.

Uh-oh.

I stared at Hawk and Hawk stared at me. When his unhappy look didn’t shift, I decided to speak.

“Hey,” I said.

He kept staring at me. Then he moved to the table lifting the Nordstrom’s bag and pulling out a familiar box with the words “Jimmy Choo” on the top. It wasn’t familiar because I owned a box like that, just that I’d seen them the multiple times I’d tried on a pair of Jimmy Choos. He dumped the bag on the table and then put the box on the table. Then he sent it sliding down the table toward me.

As it was shoes, and Jimmy Choo shoes, reflexively I moved fast, my hand carrying my clutch darting out to catch it before something tragic happened, like a pair of Jimmy Choo shoes falling to the floor.

With my hand resting on the box, I looked at Hawk, my heart beating fast.

“What’s this?” I asked.

He dipped his head to the box and growled, “Open it.”

Hmm. Still unhappy.

I dropped my clutch and wrap to the table, picked up the box and opened it.

Then my heart seized.

In it was a pair of silver, watersnake, platform sandals – slim slingback strap, peep toe, four and a half inch spiked heel. Elegant. Gorgeous. Scary expensive.

The shoes Tracy had been hiding in the shoe storeroom at Nordstrom’s for me for the last six weeks. Shoes I wanted so badly I could taste it. Shoes I told myself I would save to afford. Shoes I was never going to buy because I could never afford them, even with Tracy’s discount.

But my mission was to own a pair of Jimmy Choo shoes before I died. Some women had career goals. Some women wanted to be good mothers. Some women wanted to do their bit to save the world. My life goal was owning really beautiful, really expensive shoes.

My eyes lifted to Hawk.

“I don’t understand,” I whispered.

“Those the shoes you wanted?” Hawk asked.

I blinked.

“Yes,” I answered.

“You got ‘em.”

It took some effort but I succeeded in not hyperventilating.

“You bought them for me?” I asked as it hit me. Security system. Panic buttons. Window repair. Shoes that cost over seven hundred dollars.

What was going on?

“You wanted them,” he answered like it was as simple as that.

I felt my head get light. “How? Why?”

“Babe, you gonna put them on or what?”

“How? Why?” I repeated.

He sighed. “Your friend said you had them on hold. I know where your friend works. I sent my girl to find them. She found your girl, your girl got ‘em off hold, I bought ‘em, now they’re here.”

He stopped speaking so I prompted, “That’s the how, what’s the why?”

“Gwen, you wanted them.”

“That’s it?” I asked.

“That’s it,” he confirmed.

“I also want my own personal tropical island paradise,” I told him. “Are you going to get that for me too?”

The unhappy look shifted from his face and his mouth twitched. “That might take awhile.”

I stared at him and my belly felt squishy, my heart felt like it had grown a couple sizes and was threatening to burst out of my chest and something tingly was happening in my throat.

Then I forced out, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything,” he returned. “Just put on the fuckin’ shoes so we can go eat. I’m hungry.”

“Okay,” I whispered, pulled out a chair, sat, unstrapped my strappy, black sandals and slid on my new, silver, watersnake, kickass Jimmy Choo platforms.

Just like when I tried them on at Nordstrom’s. Utter perfection.

I sat with one calf outstretched, staring at my foot and thinking I might have just found heaven on earth, shoe-style, when Hawk spoke.

“You gonna sit there and stare at those shoes for the next decade or you gonna get your ass in my car?”

My head tipped back and my feet were encased in Jimmy Choo shoes so Hawk being annoying deflected right off me.