Kristen Ashley - Mystery Man

She put her hands on my shoulders. “Gwennie, this is shit, I get it, this sucks but I can’t help but think that –”

I stepped back and her hands dropped. “I can. I can think it. And I’m not even mad at him, Trace. I’m not. This is me. I did this to me. I allowed this to happen. And if I’m ever going to have any self-respect after this fucking, fucking mess, I’m the one who has to stop it.”

“That’s a bad decision,” Tracy said firmly.

“Maybe so but it’s the one I’ve made,” I replied and straightened my shoulders. “Scott fucked me over and I loved him. That killed me. I even knew it was happening and I allowed it until I couldn’t put up with allowing it anymore. With Scott, I waited too long to look after myself, hoping he’d sort his shit out, and I waited too long with Hawk. Even if things have changed for him, I’ll always know what I allowed myself to be, what other people think of me. No wonder both Lawson and Tack thought they could make a play. They want to get in there and who can blame them? A sure thing who opens her bed and her legs, no questions asked, no expectations, just an opportunity to get off and go your own way until you’re done. Shit!”

“That isn’t who you are,” Cam declared.

“No? Seems like it to me,” I shot back.

“Then, girl, you’re wrong,” Cam retorted.

I shook my head. “I can’t think about this now. I have to work. I’ll come over as soon as I send my files,” I told Cam.

She studied me then she said quietly, “All right, girl. I’m off today. I’ll get ice cream.”

“Cookie dough,” I corrected.

“Cookie dough,” she whispered.

“Gwennie –” Trace started and my eyes moved to her.

“I love you, babe, you know I do but not now. I can’t take your hope now. Please.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

“I need to work,” I repeated.

“Right,” Cam replied.

I nodded my head once and twisted to turn on my computer. I snatched a Kleenex out of the box on my desk to mop up the coffee spill as I heard them move out of the room.

“Gwen?” Cam called and I turned back, coffee-wet Kleenex in my hand, she was in my door. “Scott was an ass and Delgado controls his life to within an inch of it. He got one dose of you in the light of day and he’s shifted his entire way of doing things. You are not who you think you are,” she told me.

No, she was wrong. I was exactly who I thought I was and the worst of it was, Cabe “Hawk” Delgado knew it.

“I have to work,” I told her.

“You’re not who you think you are,” she repeated.

I stared at her.

“Cookie dough,” she whispered then disappeared from my door.

* * *

“Ready, ready,” I said to the courier who was standing inside my door, waiting, visibly impatiently, for me to finish writing out the check from the amount I’d jotted down when I called Nordstrom’s to find out exactly how much a pair of fabulous, silver, watersnake, platform, peep toed slingbacks cost.

I signed the check, ripped it off and shoved it in the envelope with the note I’d dashed out while I still had the courage.

Hawk,

For the shoes. You need to find a replacement for my shifts.

Gwen

I licked the envelope, closed it and handed it to the courier.

“You don’t have a name of the company?” he asked me.

I shook my head. “No, I just know the building, fourteenth floor, turn right off the elevators, right again down the hall and second door down on the left. Tell whoever you hand it to to give it to Hawk.”

His brows shot up. “Hawk?”

“Hawk.”

He eyed me like he thought I had a screw loose.

Then he muttered, “Whatever,” and took his leave.

I shut the door behind him.

Then I walked upstairs and sent my work to my author with my notes. Then I packed a bag. Then I wrote a note for Dad and Meredith and left it in the kitchen. Then I got in my car which Meredith and I had gone to get from her house the day before.

Then I went to Cam and Leo’s.

I sat at Cam and Leo’s kitchen table with Leo. I was in my nightshirt. Leo was in a gray t-shirt and plaid pajama bottoms. Cam had an early shift. Leo had a late one.

Leonard Freeman was all bulky, compacted muscle on an average height frame, kind black eyes and midnight skin. He was man from head-to-toe which made him perfect for Camille because, except for her lack of cleavage (which was camouflaged by her ample booty and beautiful face) she was all woman.

Leo took a sip of coffee and so did I.

Then he started, “Gwen –”

Nope. No. Where Camille Antoine was a straight-talker, Leo was a sage. If he lived back in ancient Greece, Leo would kick Plato’s ass. He had life figured out and in a flash he could read people and situations and know exactly what was going on. This made him a good cop but a dangerous friend.

Desperate, I shifted focus and because I was desperate, I opened my mouth and inserted my foot.

“Why haven’t you asked Cam to marry you?”

His eyes widened and he stared at me.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit! Did I actually say that?

“Um…” I started to backtrack but couldn’t figure out how.

“She wants to get married?” Leo asked and it was my turn to stare. Apparently, Leo being able to read everybody didn’t extend to his live-in girlfriend.

“Well…” I hesitated, “yeah.”

“Seriously?”

I blinked.

“Uh…” I hesitated again, “yeah.”

“I thought she was happy with the way things were,” he told me.

“She is,” I told him.

He stared.

Well, I brought us to this dire pass I had to lead us through it.

Shit!

“Are you happy with the way things are?” I probed cautiously.

“Fuck yeah,” he replied.

Well, at least that was firm.

“So… um, your hesitation with making it official has to do with…” I trailed off and lifted my eyebrows.

“It’s fine like it is, why change it?” he asked.

Okay, I was careening down the highway to the danger zone so I might as well shift up and engage the rocket launchers. The problem was, this meant explaining women to him and men never really were able to process that.

“All right, this is the gig,” I said and straightened in my chair, shifting my booty in it to indicate what I was saying needed his close attention. “Women like clothes, they like shoes, they like flowers and they like people to look at them and think, ‘God, she’s gorgeous.’ The more people who think that, the better it is. The one day in your life where you get all that rolled up into one is your wedding day. And it comes with jewelry and presents and ends with a vacation where it’s practically law that you have to wear fabulous underwear and have lots of sex.”

Leo flashed me a white smile showing that, likely, most of what I said was lost on him but I got through with the fabulous underwear and lots of sex so relief flooded through me.

Therefore, I reached out a hand and wrapped it on his forearm. “So, you give her that then you come home and it’s the same as it was before except you have towels and china in your house you didn’t have to buy.”

His arm twisted and he caught my hand then he gave it a squeeze.

Then he muttered, “This sounds good.”

“Well, lucky for you, you got it for free. I’m considering going on the road, holding classes for men, explaining things. I just need to hook up my commissions with wedding planners and really bad cover bands.”

This got me another white flash of smile even as he noted, “Engagement rings don’t exactly come cheap.”

“This is true but I’m Cam’s best friend and I’m not going to mess with any of that kitchen and bathroom bridal shower stuff. It’s all about lingerie.” I let his hand go and crossed my heart then lifted my hand, palm out. “Swear.”

“You break that promise, darlin’, and I gotta sort through garlic presses and other shit to find the bottle opener, you know I’ll make you pay,” he threatened.

“Camille doesn’t have a garlic press?” I asked, fake aghast.

This got me another white flash.

Then the white faded and his eyes grew intent. “She worried about this?”

“Cam?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” I answered honestly and quietly.

“Shit,” he muttered.

“She wants to be yours, Leo,” I told him.

“She is mine, Gwen,” he told me.

“Then let her show the world every day by giving her a ring.”

He held my eyes. Then he nodded once.

Then he said, “I gotta get to the gym.”

I nodded back, saying, “I gotta get home.”

He stood and I took a sip of coffee. I thought he’d go to the sink but he came to me. I tipped my head back to look at him just as his hand cupped the back of my head and his face got close.

“This,” he whispered, “this right here is why Cabe Delgado finally woke the fuck up.”

My heart seized but I wheezed, “Leo.”

“No more to be said, darlin’, think about that,” he declared, pulled my head forward an inch, kissed my hair and then let me go and walked his mug to the sink.

God, I loved Leo. He was the shit.

I looked out the window. The snow was long gone. February was leaking into March. In Denver this meant anything goes weather-wise. Blizzards, lying out in the sun in your bikini or both within an hour.

My phone hadn’t rung and Hawk hadn’t attempted to penetrate the Antoine/Freeman fortress. Even if he didn’t get my check and note yet, he went back to his lair to find I wasn’t there.

He was no call and no show.

This said it all and I told myself I was relieved but I wasn’t.

* * *

As I drove up to my house I noted that the good news was, Dad and Meredith’s cars weren’t there.

Dad called the night before to say that he and Meredith were going to spend the day at their house cleaning and sorting through stuff. I told him I wanted to get a few hours of work done to stay on target and then I’d come and help.

The bad news was, there was a Harley in my drive and on that Harley sat Tack.

Shit.

I pulled up to the curb so I wouldn’t block him in and he threw his leg off his bike. He started to the front door so I headed there.

“Hey peaches,” he greeted when I got close.

I had not bothered with makeup or hair. I’d taken a shower and put on another pair of yoga pants, a camisole and a zip up hoodie. I hoped I looked like hell but the way he was watching my hips move as I walked I was guessing I didn’t. Or at least my hips didn’t.

“Hey,” I replied.

His eyes lifted from my hips to mine. “Got a minute?”

“Depends,” I answered. “Are you here to tell me Ginger owes you three million dollars now?”

“Nope.”

“Are you here about Ginger at all?”

“Nope.”

“Are you here to freak me out in any other way?”

“Nope.”

“This would include asking me for a date,” I warned.

“Babe, don’t date,” he replied.

This was a surprise so I tipped my head to the side. “You don’t?”

“Do tequila shots followed by five hours of sex count as a date?” he asked.

“Um… no,” I answered.

“Then I don’t date.”

I smiled at him.

Then, stupidly, I asked, “You can have sex for five hours?”

He smiled at me.

Yikes.

Moving on.

“Okay, you can have a minute.”

“Obliged,” he muttered.

I opened the door and the alarm started beeping. Then I panicked because I forgot the code. Then I deep breathed and remembered the code. Then I punched it in and the beeping stopped.

Shoo.

I turned to see Tack followed me in and closed the door.

“See you domesticated,” he noted, glancing around.

“No, my stepmom has been in residence due to fire damage to her living room. She domesticated.”

His eyes came to me. “She in residence now?”

“She’s at her house cleaning up fire damage.”

“That sucked, babe,” he said softly.

“Tell me about it,” I agreed and walked into my house, dumping my bag and purse on my couch and turning to find he followed me and he did it close.

I tipped my head back to look at him.

“I don’t have any tequila,” I remarked and he threw his head back and laughed. His laugh was just as gravely and rumbly as his voice and I had to admit, I liked it.