Kristen Ashley - Wild Man

Crap.

“I don’t know. Later. Seven? Eight?”

“I’ll be back at nine,” he declared.

Damn.

“Why don’t we make a date to meet for coffee?” I suggested.

“Maybe because I’m not stupid?”

Damn!

I was totally going to bail on coffee and he knew it.

He kept speaking. “But right now you’re gonna tell me why you put your house on the market.”

“I need a change,” I told him.

“Yeah,” his arms gave me a squeeze, “I see this. You’ve shifted ten pounds that looked better when it was on your ass and tits. You’re in a tee and jeans and not your fancy-ass clothes and heels. You lost the glasses and got contacts. The only thing I like, babe, is the hair. Looks good longer and lighter.”

He liked my hair.

I tried not to let that make me feel tingly but it ended up more like me pretending I didn’t feel the tingles that made me feel.

“Brock, seriously, can we talk about this later?”

“Where you movin’?” he asked telling me that no, we couldn’t talk about it later.

“I haven’t decided yet,” I lied and the pulsing hum of his humor and good mood went flat as his eyes narrowed.

“Christ, Tess, did the three months you spent lickin’ your fuckin’ wounds erase the four months we spent together so you don’t remember you can’t pull shit over on me?”

My eyes narrowed too and then I informed him, “That was not cool.”

“No, what was not cool was you taking three fuckin’ months to lick your wounds and makin’ me haul my ass to you but we’ll talk about that tonight.”

I felt my body go stiff. “If that’s why you’re coming over tonight then don’t bother.”

“Okay, no,” he said on a low rumble. “I see this shit shook out some sass in you, babe, my Tess was sugar sweet from the minute my eyes hit her to the minute I kissed her goodnight. I know what happened was fucked and it fucked with your head so I’m willin’ to ride that with you but you gotta know now, once we clear a bump, you’re not draggin’ us back time and again so we become intimately acquainted with it. We’re over the bump, we move the fuck on. We’re agreed I’m over tonight, nine o’clock, we sort shit out we shoulda sorted out three months ago and see where we are. But right now, you’re tellin’ me where you’re movin’.”

“ We didn’t agree anything, Brock. You said you were coming over. I want to have coffee.”

“Don’t shit me, Tess. You’ll bag on coffee.”

“See!” I cried. “Is this sinking in that maybe I’m trying to move on in a variety of ways including moving on from Jake Knox slash Brock Lucas?”

Way, way, way wrong thing to say.

I knew this when one of his arms got tight, the other one slanted up my back, his hand cupping the back of my head as he leaned deep into me, pressing me over the counter and his face got in mine.

“I was observing,” he snarled. “Calhoun promised he’d handle you with care and I was keepin’ an eye on him ‘cause, he didn’t, I told him I’d rip his fuckin’ throat out and I wanted to make sure, he fucked with you, I didn’t fuckin’ delay.”

My body froze except my lips, which parted, and my eyes, which I felt grow round.

Brock kept talking.

“He didn’t. He pushed and you broke and what you said when you broke, babe, I didn’t know. Calhoun didn’t know. No one fuckin’ knew. But I’ll tell you this, those four words you said I’ll never fuckin’ forget. Those four fuckin’ words soldered themselves deep in the walls of my gut in a way they’ll never be cut loose. They had to drag me outta there so I didn’t go after him or try and get to you. Then you walked away and I knew you needed that even as it pissed me off you did it and broke your promise to me when you did. But you needed it. Then you stayed away and I see now you took that time to build your wall but I don’t give a fuck.

That night, I found out my woman had been violated and for three fuckin’ months I’ve lived with that and I’m done livin’ with it and lyin’ awake wonderin’ where your head is at. I’m done, Tess. So tonight, at nine, I’m back, we’re talkin’ shit through and then we’re gonna see where we’re at. You’re clear of Heller, you don’t know dick, you aren’t a part of that investigation and we’re free and clear and we’re gonna explore that but now… now darlin’, you’re gonna tell me why you got a goddamned for sale sign in your yard when you told me you love this house so much you didn’t mind livin’ in it until you die.”

“The crash,” I found my mouth whispering and I watched him blink.

“What?” he bit out.

“During… when Agent Calhoun… when I…” I stopped and licked my lips. “There was a crash outside the interrogation room. That was you.”

“Yeah, babe, that was me throwing a chair against the wall.”

That was him throwing a chair against the wall.

That was him.

That was him.

That was him throwing a chair against the wall.

I closed my eyes and did a face plant in his chest as my body relaxed in his arms.

That was Brock throwing a chair against the wall when he heard me admit to being raped.

As this knowledge flowed through me, it did it like a warm gush of clean water wiping away years of filth.

Oh my.

“Tess,” he called as his hand at my head tensed and his arm around me gave me a squeeze.

I opened my eyes and saw tee.

“Is this really your favorite tee?” I whispered against the fabric.

I felt his body still for a brief moment before I felt his whiskers pull at my hair as he slid his jaw down the side of my head.

Then he whispered in my ear, “Yeah.”

“It’s old and ratty-assed,” I informed him.

“Exactly,” he informed me.

I closed my eyes again. Then I smiled. Then the smile faded from my lips as I opened my eyes and tilted my head back, his came up with mine and I looked into his quicksilver eyes.

“Do you want me to stop by the store and pick up some Bud on the way home from the shower?” I asked softly and the mood shifted in the room again. It got warm and heavy, sultry, sweet.

My favorite mood of his. Bar none.

Damn, I missed that too.

“Yeah, baby,” he answered softly.

“Okay,” I whispered.

He closed his eyes then he opened them and dipped his head.

Then he kissed me, light and gentle at first then warm, heavy, sultry and sweet.

My toes curled and my fingers did too, right into his ratty-assed tee at his back.

Okay, okay. Seriously.

I missed this most of all.

He lifted his head and his hand at mine shifted around to the side of my neck, taking my hair with it, his thumb moving out to catch me under the chin and keep me facing him.

“Where you movin’, darlin’?”

“Kentucky.”

He did a slow blink. Then he asked, “Kentucky?”

I shrugged.

He grinned.

Then he said quietly, “All right, baby, we’ll talk about that later too.”

“Okay,” I said quietly back.

His eyes moved over my face then his hand shifted up so his thumb could glide over my cheek then my lips then he dipped his head and put his lips where his thumb was for a brief touch then he pulled away.

“Later, babe,” he whispered.

“Later, Slim.”

That got me a full blown, striking, white smile.

My toes curled again.

Then he was gone.

“This cake is so beautiful, it’s a shame to cut it!” Ada cried right before she dug right into the huge cake I made for her shower.

I smiled a polite smile as the abundance of women tittered around me excitedly at the thought of getting their free slice of a Tessa O’Hara cake. Not to brag or anything but my cakes and cupcakes had been written up in the local papers because they looked as good as they tasted and my bakery was shoulder to shoulder from open to close, ten to seven, seven days a week. That cake was homemade yellow cake with vanilla buttercream frosting. Simple but a winner. Even I knew they were in for a treat.