He battled for oxygen as he watched her look around the kitchen, over her shoulder, taking in her surroundings.
Then she whispered, “Life interrupted.”
“What?” he asked quietly.
Her eyes came back to him.
“You were what? Thirty years old? Thirty-one? You had a job. A house. Friends. And just because you’re a half-black man who won a poker game, they took all that away for five years? Then when you get out, they follow you for days and show up at your door on a Sunday morning just to give you shit?”
The air came back into his lungs and it did this because her voice was getting louder and shriller. She was working herself up.
She was not getting pissed.
She just was pissed.
For him.
“Baby –” he started.
She leaned toward him and her eyes narrowed. “That is not cool, Ty. That is not cool.” Then she slapped her hand hard on the counter of the island and shouted, “I do not believe this shit!”
Oh f**k. She was off.
He moved toward her but she stepped back, lifting up a hand.
“No,” she shook her head, “head’s up, you don’t know this about me yet but when I get mad, it’s good to keep a distance and I’m… fucking… mad. I mean, what the f**k?”
She yelled this still backing up as he advanced thinking she was wrong. She got mad the other night. He’d learned then distance was good when Lexie went off. He just wasn’t going to give it to her now because then, she was pissed at him, now she was pissed for him.
Then she suddenly stopped retreating and planted her hands on her hips. “All pu**y doesn’t have chains, Ty. This Misty bitch was a bitch. We’re not all like that. I assure you. Okay,” she threw out a hand then planted it right back on her hip, “we can be pains in the asses. I’ll grant that. But lying about your whereabouts? And doing it in order to steal five years of your life?” She shook her head, her voice loud, sharp, seriously f**king pissed. “Unh-unh.” She shook her head. “No way.”
He approached cautiously, got close and sifted his hands into her hair at either side of her head, holding it back and resting his forearms lightly on her shoulders, he dipped his head close.
“Babe, get a handle on it,” he whispered.
“That’s why you don’t trust me,” she returned, not whispering, hands still on her hips, body held tight.
“Uh… yeah,” he confirmed.
She nodded, the movement jerky, taking his hands with it. “Right. I can see that.”
He felt his mouth twitch.
“Lexie –”
“We’re not all like that, Ty.”
He pressed the pads of his fingers into her scalp and murmured, “All right, babe, now –”
“And I’m going to prove it to you and I’m going to prove it to you by not going. You need someone to take your back during this business, that’s me. I’m not going. I’m staying right here and giving you what you need.”
He felt his gut clench at the same time that thing pierced through the left side of his chest.
“All right,” he whispered through a pain that was exquisite.
She stared into his eyes and kept her hands on her hips. He stared into hers and watched the wet start to form.
And there it was again, she was giving him more because that wet was for him. And it was then he knew how she felt the day they arrived in Carnal, overwhelmed by something unexpected, something good, something she never thought she’d have. He knew how she felt because he felt it, right then, looking into her eyes, her giving him that, something good, something, after that mud was flung at him and it stuck, he never thought he’d get a shot at. And there she was, his hands in her soft, thick hair, her eyes growing wet, giving it to him.
She fought it and beat it back and she did this by continuing to throw sass.
“Now, are you gonna go with me to buy flowers for the deck or what?”
He bent his neck and dropped his forehead to hers.
Then, his eyes holding hers, he muttered, “Yeah.”
“I’ll warn you, I’ve never done any gardening. They’ll all probably die.”
“Whatever,” he replied, fighting a grin.
She looked into his eyes for awhile.
Then she told him. “You need to shower. Do you need coffee? One of your powder thingies?”
Powder thingies.
Total goof.
“Coffee.”
She nodded her head, again moving his hands.
“I’ll fix it while you shower. Travel mug.”
He closed his eyes and pulled in breath. Then he moved the lower half of his face and touched his lips to hers.
Then he let her go and walked to the stairs.
He was one step up when she called his name. He looked through the open slats and saw her at the coffeemaker, her body turned to the side counter, her neck twisted, her eyes on him.
Then she dropped the bomb.
“FYI, there’s been no one since Ronnie. No one. For four years. You’ve got a year on me but, I figure, mostly we’re in the same boat.”
He fought the urge to move to her and drag her up the stairs to his bed.
Or, saving time and energy, take her to the couch.
Instead, he asked, “You gave me that, baby, what you want me to do with it?”
She looked to the coffeemaker and muttered loudly, “I’ll leave that up to you.”
Fuck.
He knew what he wanted to do with it. He also knew how he wanted to do it. He also knew he was going to do what he wanted to do.
But that was not for now. What he wanted to do would take time.
And control.
He didn’t have any of the last left. And they had plants to buy.
So he drew breath in through his nose and walked up the stairs.
Chapter Nine
Lady Luck Was Feeling Generous
I walked down the stairs behind Ty wondering what I’d been wondering the last twenty minutes while he took a shower, shaved and donned another black tee, faded jeans and boots.
Was I crazy?
Was I stupid?
Was I both?
Or was Lady Luck feeling generous for once and if I f**ked this up, I’d piss her off?
We hit the utility room and Ty opened the door to the garage, stood clear of it but kept his hand on it, his long arm extended, keeping it open, he wanted me to precede him.
I did, took two steps into the garage, my mind cluttered then it uncluttered when what was hitting my eyes filtered to my brain. I stopped dead and stared.
This was because, parked across from my Charger, there was a kickass, badass, sleek, shiny, beautiful, oh my God black Dodge Viper sporting two, narrow, silver racing stripes up the hood and over the roof. Vaguely, it occurred to me it had to be there the other night when I’d taken off in a huff but that was how upset I was. I didn’t see it.
Then she whispered, “Life interrupted.”
“What?” he asked quietly.
Her eyes came back to him.
“You were what? Thirty years old? Thirty-one? You had a job. A house. Friends. And just because you’re a half-black man who won a poker game, they took all that away for five years? Then when you get out, they follow you for days and show up at your door on a Sunday morning just to give you shit?”
The air came back into his lungs and it did this because her voice was getting louder and shriller. She was working herself up.
She was not getting pissed.
She just was pissed.
For him.
“Baby –” he started.
She leaned toward him and her eyes narrowed. “That is not cool, Ty. That is not cool.” Then she slapped her hand hard on the counter of the island and shouted, “I do not believe this shit!”
Oh f**k. She was off.
He moved toward her but she stepped back, lifting up a hand.
“No,” she shook her head, “head’s up, you don’t know this about me yet but when I get mad, it’s good to keep a distance and I’m… fucking… mad. I mean, what the f**k?”
She yelled this still backing up as he advanced thinking she was wrong. She got mad the other night. He’d learned then distance was good when Lexie went off. He just wasn’t going to give it to her now because then, she was pissed at him, now she was pissed for him.
Then she suddenly stopped retreating and planted her hands on her hips. “All pu**y doesn’t have chains, Ty. This Misty bitch was a bitch. We’re not all like that. I assure you. Okay,” she threw out a hand then planted it right back on her hip, “we can be pains in the asses. I’ll grant that. But lying about your whereabouts? And doing it in order to steal five years of your life?” She shook her head, her voice loud, sharp, seriously f**king pissed. “Unh-unh.” She shook her head. “No way.”
He approached cautiously, got close and sifted his hands into her hair at either side of her head, holding it back and resting his forearms lightly on her shoulders, he dipped his head close.
“Babe, get a handle on it,” he whispered.
“That’s why you don’t trust me,” she returned, not whispering, hands still on her hips, body held tight.
“Uh… yeah,” he confirmed.
She nodded, the movement jerky, taking his hands with it. “Right. I can see that.”
He felt his mouth twitch.
“Lexie –”
“We’re not all like that, Ty.”
He pressed the pads of his fingers into her scalp and murmured, “All right, babe, now –”
“And I’m going to prove it to you and I’m going to prove it to you by not going. You need someone to take your back during this business, that’s me. I’m not going. I’m staying right here and giving you what you need.”
He felt his gut clench at the same time that thing pierced through the left side of his chest.
“All right,” he whispered through a pain that was exquisite.
She stared into his eyes and kept her hands on her hips. He stared into hers and watched the wet start to form.
And there it was again, she was giving him more because that wet was for him. And it was then he knew how she felt the day they arrived in Carnal, overwhelmed by something unexpected, something good, something she never thought she’d have. He knew how she felt because he felt it, right then, looking into her eyes, her giving him that, something good, something, after that mud was flung at him and it stuck, he never thought he’d get a shot at. And there she was, his hands in her soft, thick hair, her eyes growing wet, giving it to him.
She fought it and beat it back and she did this by continuing to throw sass.
“Now, are you gonna go with me to buy flowers for the deck or what?”
He bent his neck and dropped his forehead to hers.
Then, his eyes holding hers, he muttered, “Yeah.”
“I’ll warn you, I’ve never done any gardening. They’ll all probably die.”
“Whatever,” he replied, fighting a grin.
She looked into his eyes for awhile.
Then she told him. “You need to shower. Do you need coffee? One of your powder thingies?”
Powder thingies.
Total goof.
“Coffee.”
She nodded her head, again moving his hands.
“I’ll fix it while you shower. Travel mug.”
He closed his eyes and pulled in breath. Then he moved the lower half of his face and touched his lips to hers.
Then he let her go and walked to the stairs.
He was one step up when she called his name. He looked through the open slats and saw her at the coffeemaker, her body turned to the side counter, her neck twisted, her eyes on him.
Then she dropped the bomb.
“FYI, there’s been no one since Ronnie. No one. For four years. You’ve got a year on me but, I figure, mostly we’re in the same boat.”
He fought the urge to move to her and drag her up the stairs to his bed.
Or, saving time and energy, take her to the couch.
Instead, he asked, “You gave me that, baby, what you want me to do with it?”
She looked to the coffeemaker and muttered loudly, “I’ll leave that up to you.”
Fuck.
He knew what he wanted to do with it. He also knew how he wanted to do it. He also knew he was going to do what he wanted to do.
But that was not for now. What he wanted to do would take time.
And control.
He didn’t have any of the last left. And they had plants to buy.
So he drew breath in through his nose and walked up the stairs.
Chapter Nine
Lady Luck Was Feeling Generous
I walked down the stairs behind Ty wondering what I’d been wondering the last twenty minutes while he took a shower, shaved and donned another black tee, faded jeans and boots.
Was I crazy?
Was I stupid?
Was I both?
Or was Lady Luck feeling generous for once and if I f**ked this up, I’d piss her off?
We hit the utility room and Ty opened the door to the garage, stood clear of it but kept his hand on it, his long arm extended, keeping it open, he wanted me to precede him.
I did, took two steps into the garage, my mind cluttered then it uncluttered when what was hitting my eyes filtered to my brain. I stopped dead and stared.
This was because, parked across from my Charger, there was a kickass, badass, sleek, shiny, beautiful, oh my God black Dodge Viper sporting two, narrow, silver racing stripes up the hood and over the roof. Vaguely, it occurred to me it had to be there the other night when I’d taken off in a huff but that was how upset I was. I didn’t see it.
