Mystery Man
Page 54

Definitely my belly was squishy.
“Hawk –”
“Lights on if it’s dark when I f**k you, missed that look for a year and a half too, not missin’ it again.”
Now my throat was tingly and I could feel my heart swelling.
I slid one of my arms around to his back, I pressed in closer as my neck twisted slightly so my lips were at the skin of his. “You didn’t let me do anything to you,” I whispered.
“You can do whatever you want to me in about two minutes,” he whispered back, his hand drifting down to my ass, then pushing in.
“Whatever I want?”
“Whatever you want, baby.”
“Oh my,” I breathed and he chuckled in my ear.
Nice.
I pressed even closer.
Then his head suddenly came up, I looked up at him and saw it was tilted. He was listening.
Then he clipped, “Fuck.”
“Fuck what?”
He didn’t answer. He knifed out of bed taking me with him.
When I was on my feet by the bed, I repeated, “Fuck what, Hawk?”
He looked down at me but grabbed my hand and started pulling me to my suitcases.
“Get dressed, babe. We have company.”
“We do?” I asked as he stopped me by my suitcases.
“Yeah,” he answered.
Oh shit.
“Good company or bad company?” I asked, his hands went to my h*ps and he pulled my na**d body into his.
“Right now, Sweet Pea,” he growled, “any company is bad company.”
I had to admit, with his warm, solid, na**d body pressed to mine, I agreed.
Then there was a banging at the door and I jumped. Then I pulled from his hands and bent to my suitcases. Hawk prowled to his wardrobe.
I grabbed items and flew to the bathroom.
I’d used the facilities, brushed and flossed, washed my face, put on my underwear and was pulling my hair up in a high ponytail when the door to the bathroom opened without even a knock.
I jumped and whirled to see Hawk standing there wearing dark brown cargo pants and tight, olive drab thermal.
A thought popped into my head and, stupidly, it popped out of my mouth.
“How many pairs of cargo pants do you own?”
His eyes went from my underwear to me.
Then he announced without preparing me in any way, shape or form, “My family’s here. Surprise visit. They’ve heard about you. Jury’s got a big mouth.”
My breath rushed out of me with an audible, “oof”.
Then I whispered, “What?”
“Ma’s makin’ breakfast.”
His Ma? His Ma was making breakfast?
I felt my eyes get huge and I repeated, “What?”
“It’ll take her awhile so whenever you’re ready to come down.”
Again I asked, “What?”
But I did this to a closed door. He was gone.
I turned to face the mirror where my eyes were just as huge as I expected and my face was pale.
Then I whispered, “Shit.”
Chapter Eighteen
Cleaver
I stared in the mirror.
I’d grabbed my clothes in a tizzy but even if I didn’t, I was unprepared.
In normal circumstances, any meeting with the parents necessitated a carefully strategized trip to the mall, a manicure, pedicure, facial, hair trim and at least a week of psyching yourself up.
At least.
I didn’t have that.
Instead I’d grabbed a pair of mocha, roll top yoga pants, a cream, ultra slim fit camisole and my lightweight, close-fit, zip up hoodie with the super awesome stitching and it was, what I thought at the time, the mega-awesome color of a pastel, neon orangy-peach.
Now I was thinking it looked ridiculous.
Seeing as it was Sunday morning and normal folk didn’t dress to the nines with full on makeup for a surprise, family breakfast visit, I didn’t do makeup. But I did spritz with perfume.
I sucked in breath. I couldn’t be up there ages and I couldn’t escape this.
Welp! What will be, will be.
I exited the bathroom and headed to the stairs, hearing children screaming over a low murmuring of adult voices.
I looked right as I walked down the stairs and I saw a gorgeous, older woman at the stove, bacon in the skillet, its scent filling the air and her head was turned to me. Two Hawk-looking, also gorgeous, tall, lean men sitting identically at stools, long upper thighs splayed manly wide, feet to the rung and their heads turned to me. Another, older, Hawk-looking, handsome, tall, lean man standing at the opposite end of the counter, his eyes on me. Hawk, with his back to me, leaning his hip against the end of the horseshoe, his neck twisted so he could look at me. And lastly, two black-haired kids, both boys, ages indeterminate but I was guessing somewhere in the area of two and six, racing through the vast space and not knowing I existed.
“Hey,” I called five steps from the bottom (yes, I was counting, I had five steps to go without falling on my face).
“Hey,” one of the men at the stool replied, grinning, no dimples but his brother at the other stool was also grinning and he had dimples. So did the older man.
I walked across the space which was a long way normally, an epic journey with Hawk’s family’s eyes following me.
I didn’t know where to head so my feet took over and led me to Hawk. I stopped at his side and no one had looked away. Not one of them.
Yikes.
Then Hawk’s arm slid along my shoulders, he curled me as he turned me so my front was pressed into his side, close, too close and I looked up as I prepared to gain distance, only to see his eyes warm on me.
“You good?” he asked softly.
No. One could not say I was good. One could say I was freaking out.
I nodded my lie.
“You want coffee?”
“Coffee would be good,” I whispered and started to pull away but Hawk’s arm tensed and his head lifted and turned toward his mother.
“Ma, could you get Gwen a coffee?”
My body jolted and my head whipped toward her. “I can get it.”
Then I stilled.
Something was wrong. Not just wrong, very wrong. And it was the look on Hawk’s mother’s face that was wrong. There was sadness there and I didn’t know her, I’d been in her presence less than a minute but that sadness touched my soul.
“Maria, honey, Cabe’s girl needs coffee,” the older man prompted quietly, Hawk’s mother’s body jerked and then she swept that sadness clean away.
Um. What the f**k was that?
“Right, of course, Gwen?” she said, hurrying to me. “I’m Maria. Cabe’s mother.”