Games of the Heart
Page 41

Not good.
Maybe they were home because Rhonda had called a halt to them going out on a school night after dinner all the way to the mall to watch a movie that wouldn’t get her and the boys home until after ten.
Then again, Rhonda didn’t have much of a backbone so I couldn’t imagine, even though it was clear she didn’t want to go, she’d be able to pull that off.
I was in the living room flat out on the couch. It had been a long three-day haul, me and my babies. Fin was right about one thing, I was tuckered right the hell out. I needed to relax and settle. And I was doing that with a beer and really shitty TV.
“No, you did. You forgot to lock the door.”
That answer came not from Fin, not from Kirb and not from Rhonda but from a deep, familiar voice.
I froze then shot to my feet, whirling to the door to see Mike standing there.
What the f**k?
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
Then I watched with astonished eyes as he shrugged off his leather jacket and threw it on an armchair like he was going to stay a while.
My eyes went from his jacket to his face and I felt them narrow.
“We need to talk,” he announced.
“No we don’t,” I replied immediately.
“Yes we do,” he shot back.
“Get out,” I ordered then I was moving back and doing this quickly and instinctively. And I was doing this because he was moving forward faster and with purpose.
Toward me.
I scuttled backward across the room, hit a cabinet, adjusted then my back hit the wall about half a second before Mike hit me. His body to mine, his hand at the side of my neck sliding back and up into my hair and his other arm curling low at my waist.
My heart was beating like a jackhammer as I looked up at him, shocked.
“What are you doing?” It came out breathy which pissed me right off.
“Like I said, we’re going to talk.” That came out firm but soft and warm with his eyes staring straight into mine also being warm but visibly determined.
“Step back,” I demanded.
“No.”
“Step back!” I snapped.
He pressed me into the wall and repeated a low, “No.”
“Are you crazy?” I asked, forcing my hands between us to push him off but this was a mistake. A big one. Because his arm slid up my back then grew tighter and it trapped my hands and arms between us.
“I f**ked up,” he whispered.
I stopped trying to pull my hands from between us and glared at him.
“Yeah, you did.”
“I know I did.” He was still whispering.
“Will you step back?” I clipped.
“No. We’re talking.”
“Mike –”
His lips hit mine and I stilled.
“We’re…talking,” he murmured against my lips and I stayed still. Completely still. Except my heart which was racing.
God, that was hot. He was an ass**le dick of the worst variety and still, that was unbelievably hot.
“So talk,” I encouraged bitingly in an effort to hold onto my temper at the same time hide my reaction to the hotness of his maneuver.
He lifted his head half an inch which was not far enough by a long shot but at least it was something and I wasn’t in the position to quibble, unfortunately.
“My headspace was f**ked up,” he began.
“I think I got that,” I retorted sarcastically.
“I know you did, honey, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I served up that crap to you. I’m sorry I did it at all but I’m unbelievably f**kin’ sorry I did it after Darrin died and you were vulnerable.”
“I wasn’t vulnerable.”
“I’m glad to know that now before I gave my heart to you because I had one day with you and I was all set to wrap it up in a tidy bow and hand it right over,” he stated and I blinked.
Mike was repeating what I said. I’d said that. In fact, I think I said that verbatim.
And he remembered every word.
I felt my skin start tingling.
Mike kept talking.
“I was so fired up to protect myself from you playin’ games with my heart, I played yours.”
Holding onto my anger, I shared acidly, “I got that too.”
“I know you did,” he whispered and I wished he’d quit whispering like that because it was sweet, it sounded nice, it made it sound like he meant his words in a way that came straight from the soul and it was messing with my head. I also wished he’d quit holding me. And I also wished I could tear my eyes from the intensity of his.
“Okay, so we’re talking. Can we do it with you not touching me?” I sort of gave in.
“No,” he denied and I glared at him.
“Mike, seriously, this is not cool.”
“What wasn’t cool was me bein’ an ass, treatin’ you like shit and then lettin’ you walk away from me after I did it instead of doin’ everything I could to keep you with me and making you understand. That isn’t happening again.”
“I know the answer to this already because clearly you’re fired up to right wrongs and don’t really give a shit what I want. But does it matter that perhaps I’d prefer you not to be in my space while we have this little chat?”
“You’re pissed at me,” he declared.
“Uh, wrong,” I snapped. “I’m more than pissed at you.”
“Right, so, you get more than pissed at someone who means something to you, you can be driven to do stupid shit. I’m not takin’ that chance either. So, you’re right. I don’t give a shit about what you want so it doesn’t matter that you want space because you aren’t getting it.”
I felt my eyebrows raise and I asked, “Are you serious?”
“Deadly,” he answered immediately making the unmistakable statement that he was, indeed, deadly serious.
I clamped my mouth shut.
Mike looked to my mouth, something else I wished he didn’t do, then back to my eyes.
“Suffice it to say my marriage was not a good one,” he declared.
“Uh…I think I got that too,” I replied.
“I own a six thousand dollar bed.”
I blinked for a variety of reasons. One being in the current circumstances this was a weird thing to share. Two being that I didn’t even know beds cost that much. Three being the fact that Mike dressed nice, he had a decent car and from what I would allow myself to take in it seemed he had a pretty nice house but he was still a cop.
“That’s about ten percent of my yearly salary if I don’t do overtime,” Mike continued.