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She could no longer remember exactly what she’d done to Justin Termini, who’d later become her first boyfriend, but she did remember the awful knowledge that she’d failed Duke. That same night, she’d grabbed Oinky, thrust him in Duke’s face, and then stomped outside to fling her pig in the trash. She’d been amply rewarded with a big hug, a trip to get ice cream, and praise for being tough as any boy in town. Duke had never discovered that she’d climbed out on the roof that night, shimmied down the porch post, and retrieved Oinky from the garbage can. She’d hidden her pig away for the rest of her childhood.
Oinky had long since outlived his usefulness, but she couldn’t get rid of him, and she tucked him in the box with her sweatshirts. She took a break to make herself a sandwich and carried it to the bay window. As she looked down on the twilit street, she saw a metallic-blue Tesla pull into a parking space. Her sandwich stalled on its way to her mouth as the driver’s door swung open and Cooper Graham got out. Her appetite vanished. She hadn’t returned his attorney’s calls, and he’d come after her himself.
The downstairs newlyweds were heading up the sidewalk. She’d seen one of the men in a Stars sweatshirt, so Graham wouldn’t have any trouble getting them to let him in the building. In less than a minute, he’d be pounding on her door. She could either refuse to answer or meet the beast head on.
A no-brainer. She’d been through enough lately. Sh
e wasn’t answering.
But cowering inside her apartment proved too much for her, and by his third knock, she’d stalked across the room and jerked open the door. “What do you want?”
4
He pushed into her living room, bringing a megablast of hostile energy right along with him. “Keith has been skimming me.”
“Your red-haired bartender? Yeah, I know.”
Six feet three inches of angry male entitlement planted himself in the middle of her carpet. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Her chin shot up. “What the hell? I did tell you!”
“Not in a way I could believe!”
She stared at him, exchanging glare for glare.
He looked away first, raking his fingers through his hair only to have it spring back into rumpled position. “So maybe I wasn’t in the mood to listen.”
She shoved the door closed before all her neighbors came running out to investigate. “I doubt you’re ever in the mood to listen.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Her frustration got the best of her. “You’re so used to feeling superior that you’ve forgotten there are people who might know something you don’t.”
One of his big, competent hands landed on the blade of his hip. “What’s your deal anyway? Do you feel like such a failure that you need to attack anybody who’s successful?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t know. Fuck you.”
He laughed. A genuine jolt of amusement that seemed to shock him as much as her and quickly faded. “How did you figure it out?”
“Never let any guy believe he’s superior to you,” Duke used to say. “Except your old man.”
“Simple powers of observation.” She purposely reclaimed the sandwich she could no longer imagine eating. “Something I’m good at.”
He cocked his head at her. “Educate me.”
“Pay me,” she retorted.
He shook his head, not as if he were denying her, more as if he were trying to shake off a concussion. He glanced around the condo, saw the open suitcase piled with clothes, the cardboard box she’d loaded up with nonperishables from her kitchen: cereal, canned soup, boxed mac and cheese. She knew how to cook but never seemed to get around to it.
“You’re moving,” he said. “Too bad. This is a nice place.”
“It’s okay.” It was more than okay. And it would be hers to keep if she gave up and went back to her old job. But she didn’t want to do online promotions for motor oil or deal with one-star reviews because a customer’s replacement ignition coil failed. That kind of work had sucked out her soul.
He picked up Oinky. “Nice pig.”
She fought the urge to snatch her pig away. “School mascot.”
He took Oinky with him as he sat uninvited on her cocoa-colored sofa. Compared with Officer Hottie’s pumped-up calendar-boy gorgeousness, Graham was rougher at the edges—the planes of his face more rugged, a battle scar on his forehead, another on the side of his jaw. That cleft chin. He was hard as nails, despite the hand clasping her pig. In times of war, Graham would be the commander men followed into battle. In peacetime, he led his team to glory. All in all, a man not to be trifled with.
