Games of the Heart
Page 32

I didn’t think Mike would be like this. Ever. And it sucked he was.
So when I knocked, I knocked sharply.
He wanted to talk face-to-face, fine. I’d do that. I’d do that for the Mike who was a good friend to my brother for years. I’d do that for the Mike who gave me some unbelievably fantastic orgasms. And I’d do that for the Mike I once knew him to be who I adored.
But this shit was not going to be drawn out. Rhonda was even more skittish and freaked out than normal. Fin and Kirb were both handling her like a piece of fragile glass. Mom and Dad had clearly tried everything in their parenting arsenal to help out, as had Rhonda’s parents who still lived close and reportedly had been hovering daily, and no one knew what to do. So I had shit to see to.
Mike opened the door and I looked right him. First, I noted he hadn’t grown grotesque in the two weeks we’d been separated which was unfortunate. Second, I noticed that he had a gentle look on his face that wasn’t sweet, warm and openly gentle but cautious and distantly gentle.
This already wasn’t starting good.
He stepped back, opening the door wider saying, “Hey, Dusty.”
No “Angel”. Yep, not starting good.
“Hey,” I muttered, moving in as he clearly intended me to do and taking two steps in before stopping.
I didn’t look around. I was curious but damned if I was going to give into it. Mike was not in my future, this much I’d figured out. I didn’t need an in-my-face view of what I was going to be missing.
He closed the door and turned to me. I was already turned to him.
“You want a drink?” he asked.
“No, I want to get whatever this is done so I can get back to my family,” I answered.
He flinched and didn’t hide it.
Whatever. Mike obviously could be more than one kind of dick. Since he had awesome command of the real one on his body and he was gorgeous, this shouldn’t have been a surprise. It was my vast experience beautiful men who were good in bed tended to be total ass**les. If he was decent enough to feel guilt about that, that was not my problem.
“Go straight down the hall, Dusty. We’ll talk in the living room,” Mike invited.
“How long’s this going to take?” I asked and his eyes leveled on mine.
“I’m asking you, please, go down the hall, Dusty,” he said firmly. I figured that was how he talked to his kids but he probably took the jerk out of it when he spoke to his kids that way.
I sighed, turned and walked down the hall.
Being even more pissed, I forgot to keep my blinders up and through the windowed backdoors I saw a gorgeous, clearly spunky golden retriever outside bouncing around on Mike’s deck.
Damn, I loved dogs and she was beautiful.
I pulled my eyes away from the dog and turned to Mike.
“So, what is it?” I asked.
“Sit down.”
“No, Mike. Just tell me.”
“Dusty, please sit down.”
“I think I answered that,” I snapped, his gaze held mine then he gave in, crossing his arms on his unfairly wide and attractive chest (yes, even in clothes and unfortunately I knew how good that chest looked out of them).
He took in a breath and started, “Honey, you’re a beautiful woman.”
Oh my God, was he serious?
I rolled my eyes.
“Dusty, eyes to me and listen to me,” he clipped, suddenly sounding angry and I looked at him. Boy, did I look at him and I did it hard.
Then I invited, “Say what you have to say to make you feel better for whatever it is you feel shit about, Mike, so I can get on with my day. But, do me a favor, cut out the meaningless, flowery compliments and do it quick-like. I’ve got shit to do.”
“I need you to understand why I’ve come to the decision I’ve made.”
I tipped my head to the side and asked, “Does it matter if I don’t want to understand?”
“It matters to me,” he said, his voice softer and quieter.
I threw out a hand magnanimously. “Well, by all means, Mike. Sock it to me.”
He held my eyes and kept talking in that soft, quiet but reserved voice, “This is hard enough, sweetheart.”
Well, poor you, I thought but kept my mouth shut. Me speaking was prolonging this farce.
He correctly ascertained I was not going to reply so he kept speaking.
“We didn’t have the time for me to explain what happened in my marriage. And we didn’t have the time for me to share about Violet. I did tell you that those experiences meant I knew what I wanted and what I didn’t.”
That hurt and I didn’t even know what he was talking about. That was exactly how much I liked him. That was exactly how much I wanted to believe that dream I had two weeks ago, the impossible dream happening at the impossible time after my brother f**king died was real. I liked him so much that he could say nothing and it still cut like a knife.
“There are other things too,” he carried on. “You mentioned you want children. I have two and I don’t want more. You live in Texas. I live here. You have a good life there, good friends and you do something you love. There is no way, if this was to work out, I could join you there. Then there’s Debbie –”
At my sister’s name, my back went straight and I interrupted, “Debbie?”
“Yeah, Debbie.”
“What does she have to do with this?”
“Honey, I took her virginity. We were teenagers but we were lovers for a year and a half and she’s your sister.”
“You didn’t mind that two weeks ago,” I reminded him.
“I’ve had time to think about it and other shit has come up.”
“Right, well get on with the other shit, Mike,” I encouraged cuttingly.
His eyes got softer, warmer but they were still remote, “Honey, this doesn’t have to be ugly.”
He was wrong about that. It already was.
I didn’t reply.
He held my gaze. Then he took in a visibly massive breath.
Then he started, “She did it for the right reasons. I can see you’re pissed but I’d like to ask that you don’t take that out on her.”
I felt my eyebrows draw together. “What are you talking about?”
I hoped like hell it wasn’t Debbie. If my bitchface sister got hold of Mike and filled his head with shit to take him away from me, I would not be responsible for what I would do.
He again held my gaze and he was warring with something. I could see it plain as day on his face.
Then he moved and I watched as he rounded the couch. It didn’t hit me until he bent and picked up two books that were sitting on his coffee table. And it didn’t even really hit me as I stared at those books that were vaguely familiar as he walked back to the place he’d stood before, five feet away from me.