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I strode away. I wasn’t ready to discuss Moira yet with anyone. Not when I was still trying to figure out if this was just sex with the most intense amount of chemistry.
I’d slept with my best friend’s ex-girlfriend. Although slept with was a rather broad term that didn’t encompass what really happened. When what I had really done was fucked her until my body gave out. Until I’d come so many times my dick was fucking sore. And then woke up this morning and took her again in the shower.
Was she mine?
It felt like it.
But that truth made me uncomfortable. I wasn’t the settling down type. What type of future would Moira and I have, anyway? We were worlds apart. My life was elsewhere, and hers was here.
I only had two years left before I retired, a little voice whispered in my ear.
So? I thought militantly.
If I was looking for what or who might be in my future when I retired, Moira could be part of that. But it was too soon to tread that route. We were enjoying each other’s company. But we’d move on once I headed out to meet Wyatt and the rest of the gang.
At least, that was what I told myself as I climbed on my bike and started the engine. But as I drove away from the Southern Line Café, I knew it for the lie it was. Because sometime overnight, Moira had sunk her hooks in.
And the thought of walking away from her didn’t sit well at all. Not when a part of me wanted to come back once my time was up and sink into her softness for good.
* * *
Icarted in bags of groceries. With Ben staying with me, I was going through food like it was going out of style. I knew guys could eat a lot. Hell, Evan had practically needed a forklift full of food whenever he blew through town.
But I’d forgotten, silly me, just how much a SEAL was like a professional athlete, needing to constantly refuel, only more so. Which meant I’d bought extra this morning while the busybodies looked down their noses at me.
Really one would think it wouldn’t get to me after all this time. That I would be used to the looks and the sneers, that the do-gooders’ snide comments and brazen glares wouldn’t still cut like a knife.
And for the most part, they no longer did. But there were times, like now, when I felt like I was under attack, and their disapproving stares got under my skin. It was stupid.
But then, I felt emotionally raw after the last few days. Between Ben and his crew appearing on my doorstep, the letter from Evan that was mocking me at this point for being a coward, and then letting my walls down with Ben last night, I was an emotional rollercoaster.
In all my life, I’d never felt that close to anyone before. The burdens I carried were heavy, and I’d been on my own for a long damn time. I figured there would never be anyone strong enough to bear them—until Ben.
It was laughable, really. Because with my career, what kind of decent man would really want to commit to me? Evan certainly hadn’t. And I doubted his best friend would.
The thing was, I wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea. I’d known that for most of my life. But I’d hoped eventually that I would be someone’s shot of whiskey.
For a little while last night, when I was cuddled against him, I felt safe within the shelter of his arms for the first time in so long I couldn’t remember ever feeling that safe. And perhaps I was being fanciful and looking at the event through rose-colored glasses, but he was there with me the whole time.
Beyond the orgasms and the pleasure, he’d been there. And when he’d looked at me, it had felt like he saw me. The real me without the artifice and bad bitch attitude. And he hadn’t run off in the middle of the night.
He’d stayed, when even Evan had run.
I didn’t know how to feel about that. Because the thing was, I’d hoped for that one person for so long that my hope had turned to acid long ago.
I wasn’t going to apologize for my profession. I was good at it. Although my dancing days were coming to a close, I still owned a strip club. I cared about my girls. I wanted to be the boss I wished I’d had as I was making my way in the world. One who had their backs and made it a safe space for them.
Eventually I might sell the club, but only to a good buyer who’d treat the girls right. It couldn’t be just anyone.
Tater stood near the front door, growling.
“Tater? What’s going on, bud? Did the neighbor’s cat get loose again?” I waltzed toward the front door and peered out the window. Tater hated the neighbor’s cat. The big orange kitty liked to come by the front door when he got out and teased Tater shamelessly.
And that’s when I saw it. It wasn’t the neighbor’s fat cat.
I sucked in a ragged breath, feeling a scream building in my chest.
Dangling from a thin rope on the oak tree in the front yard was a manilla envelope. Fear skittered along my spine. On autopilot, I opened the door and headed toward the tree. Glancing left and right, feeling there were eyes on me everywhere.
