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“Not at the moment.”
“Why not?” I think I hold my breath waiting for her to drive another stake in a heart I am only just realizing is still inside me.
“We broke up when I left Canada.”
“Were you together long?”
For some reason my mind considers holding her up against the nearest wall and interrogating the shit out of her, which surprises me–a lot.
“No, three months maybe. I was working at my friend’s bakery and he was one of the customers. I needed some down time, before you make some snarky comment, and was helping to get her business started. Well, Mason took a great liking to my buns and came most days.”
I raise my eyes and she giggles adorably and despite myself, my lips twitch.
“So, we started dating, and it was fun. He was an ordinary guy, easy on the eye with a solid job. Good prospects and a real keeper.”
“The why didn’t you?”
She cocks her head and I grin, “Keep him, that is?”
“I got bored to be honest.” She sighs heavily. “You know, I always thought I wanted what Richie has with Sindy.”
“Who the fuck are Richie and Sindy?”
She stops and looks at me in shock. “What the fuck, seriously?”
I am genuinely confused, and she starts to laugh. “Richie Dobson, your driver, the man you see probably more than your family. Honestly, Hunter, what planet do you live on?”
“My own one, of course.” Despite myself, I laugh, and Lexi just stops again and stares.
“What?”
“You laughed.”
“So what, it’s hardly breaking news.”
“You think. Maybe you don’t realize this but you’re a surly bastard most of the time and when you drop the act, a better man reveals himself.”
“If you say so. Anyway, back to you.”
She sighs and for some reason squeezes my hand a little tighter, and I resist the urge to lift it to my lips.
“Mason could have been that man I was looking for. The husband to my kids, provider of respectable home and annual vacation. The man I always thought I wanted, but I soon realized I was way past all that. I suppose it’s having lived with a biker gang for close on three years that did it. I mean, those guys are seriously everything but still not enough.”
“Then what is?”
“I haven’t discovered that yet but I’ll let you know when I find it.”
She laughs self-consciously. “So, your turn. What’s in your future, always providing I do my job properly and you have one that is?”
She giggles again, and I love hearing it. In fact, I love this side of her. The genuine, down to earth, girl next door type that I always thought was boring and not for me. But she’s far from your typical girl next door, and I shrug.
“It’s not for me. I’m not interested in settling down, kids, and everything that goes with it. If I want female company, I dial it in.”
“Prostitutes.”
She seems a little disappointed somehow and I shake my head. “No, I don’t pay for sex. I wine and dine eligible women and end up deep inside them at the end of the night. A bouquet delivered the next day after an unforgettable evening is payback enough.”
“Fuck me, you’re an asshole.”
“Thank you.”
Strangely, I raise her hand to my lips and fight an urge to suck her fingers one by one and strangely just press my lips to her skin in distraction
I can feel her watching me, but she doesn’t drag it away and as I grip it still firmly in mine, I sigh. “Becoming an asshole comes naturally to me. It’s taken me several years to carve out that particular reputation and I’m good at it. It provides an excuse for the fact I don’t want to let anyone in and I have very good reasons for that, so before you judge me too harshly, believe me, I judge myself even harder. Stop trying to look for any humanity in my soul, Lexi, because that left years ago. I’m a shell of a bastard with nothing but emptiness inside. No conscience, no feeling, no moral compass. Just business. Now you know what you’re dealing with, you can spare me any sympathy because I like my life like this and will never change.”
She grips my hand a little tighter and says softly, “No worries, I respect your wishes. Hell, I even understand them, which shows we are two fucked up halves of a similar coin. So, how about we grab a coffee and take it to work, what else is there to do, anyway?”
She speaks my language and I’m grateful for that. No lectures, no shock and disapproval, just an understanding of who walks beside her. Noticing the coffee shop across the street from the office, I realize with some surprise we have made it here already, and it wasn’t nearly as unpleasant as I thought it would be. Maybe that has something to do with the intriguing woman holding my hand and wearing my jacket, who is once again biting on her bottom lip as she studies the choice of coffees on offer.
Why does this feel so natural and why do I like it?
