He looked up at her. He seemed more like a defused bomb.
Paige took a step out of the door. “We’re all freaking out over it, Tru. Every single one of us.”
And that was something she had to take into consideration for herself, too.
After putting the kids to bed, Paige was mentally ready for some R&R with Dexx. And, by R&R, she meant sex.
But the rest of her wasn’t ready. The rest of her wasn’t willing.
What the frell was wrong with her?
She put on her tank top, slid off her shorts, and slipped into bed, ready to call it a night.
What a crapfest.
Dexx leaned against the doorway, his shirt in hand, and cocked his head to the side.
She didn’t want to look at him. She was healthy, sexy for her height. She could have sex now, almost whenever she wanted it. As long as she wanted it after the kids were in bed and everyone else was otherwise preoccupied, but whatever. She had a man within easy sex distance.
Maybe she needed to go see a doctor.
Right. Just as soon as the insurance kicked in. When would that be? In about two months.
Awesome.
So, what did she do? Hope this lack of sex drive went away? Was she broken? In Dallas, she hadn’t had that great a sex drive, but when they had that rare moment of alone time, she’d jumped on it. The body had been ready to turn on.
But now? They had the biggest room ever. They had quiet. They could have sex on the balcony, if they wanted to. Well, assuming Tyler was really in bed. But…nothing.
Dexx sighed and walked around to the other side of the bed and crawled in. “Are we going to talk about this?”
“Talk about what?” Sometimes, he had the uncanny ability to appear to read her mind. Other times, they could have been on opposite planets.
“Sex.”
Shit. They hadn’t had sex for almost three weeks.
“Are you unhappy with me? Do I not turn you on?”
Fuck. She turned around and gazed up at his ruggedly handsome face. Just seeing it or hearing his voice calmed nerves she, typically, didn’t even know were ragged. “You do. I don’t know what’s going on right now. I’m really sorry. It’s like there’s an off button somewhere and it’s been flipped.”
“Well, find it and flip it back on.”
“I wish I could.” And she did.
He propped his head on the palm of his hand, his lips pushed out for a moment as he thought. “Everything’s been a little overwhelming.”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
“For the last three or four months, it’s been one thing and then another just thrown at you. And then the last three weeks have been even more so. I get it.”
“Yeah? Well, I don’t.” Paige sat up, curling her legs under her. “It’s those kinds of moments that would drive the sex drive up. Right? Wouldn’t it?”
He crossed his legs in front of him. “Nah. Not really. Pea, you’ve been pushing yourself in a constant fight response. That doesn’t turn everyone on.”
“But I do have excess energy.”
He scrunched up his eyes and shook his head. “You know, I think you think you have extra energy. What I think you’re doing is dredging up more adrenaline to just keep one foot going in front of the other. You’re wearing yourself out.”
She very well might be. She had a huge battle ahead of her. She could feel it. Merry Eastwood was going to pull something. Soon. And she had…no energy stores. Whatsoever. “What do I do?”
He smiled at her, cupping her cheek. “Sleep.”
She closed her eyes, enjoying the warm feel of his rough fingertips caressing her cheek. “But I’ve done that,” she said, opening her eyes. “Merry’s coming. And when she does, I’ve got nothing. If I can’t dredge up enough energy to make wild love to my incredibly hot not-my-baby-daddy, then we’re hooped.”
He chuckled, dropping his hand. “Well, then, I don’t know. Do you want to talk about it?”
“About what?” She raised her hands in exasperation and let them drop again.
“I don’t know. We haven’t talked. Not since we got here, anyway. We’ve both been too busy.”
She dropped her shoulders and just looked at him. He’d lost some of the definition of his abs since he’d moved in with the Whiskeys. He had a slight pudge to his belly, but his pecs were still well-defined, as were his arms. Ugh. How men were able to do that when women weren’t was a point of frustration.
But that face. The dark, short hair. He’d let it grow so it wasn’t crew-cut anymore. It softened his edges, but only by a little. The crinkle of those gorgeous green eyes.
And the man. When he spoke, he melted her heart. The way he spent time with Leah and Mandy, teaching them how to defend themselves. The way he pretended with Tyler, even though he was probably past the age of pretend. The way he handled Bobby and Kamden like a pro. The way he supported Leslie right before she was about to break. The way he propped Paige up when she faltered. The way he kept Alma on an even keel.
Where would the Whiskeys even be without him?
And, truth be told, she very well might be off her game because she hadn’t had her snuggle, cuddle, and talk time.
She launched herself, head-first into his shoulder, pushing him to the bed, and into his arms.
He chuckled and held her close.
“I am probably a bit more worn out than I’m fessing up to.”
“Yes.” He brushed her hair out of his mouth. “The move was a lot harder on all of us than any of us are willing to admit.”
“It was hard on you, too?” Paige was a bit surprised by that. “I thought you were used to moving.”
“I’m used to living out of a duffle bag” He rested his chin on her head. “You guys have a lot of stuff. But I also had to go through my stuff and figure out what to even keep, you know? I hadn’t gone through that storage shed in, heck, years. There was a loaf of old bread in there.”
“Moldy?”
“No, but hard as hell. The thing could’ve been a brick.”
She chuckled. “That was an easy decision. Toss it out.”
“Nah. I thought about keeping it as a memento.”
“You’re not serious.”
“Yeah, sure. I figured, I was putting down roots so I had the time to hold onto mementos.”
“But not loaves of bread. That does not a memento make.”
“But the car parts I saved do, right? Because I’ve still got the first engine that came with Jackie.”
“No.” Paige released a breath of a chuckle. “Tell me you don’t.”
“Of course I do. What do I look like? A barbarian?”
She still couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. “Is it salvageable?”
“Not a chance. The thing practically blew up.”
“Those things are heavy.”
“You’re telling me. I have to use an engine lift just to pick the darned thing up.”
“Then—” He had to be pulling her leg. “I have a box filled with pictures.”
“Oh, I know.” He squeezed her extra tight. “You labeled it with your favorite colored duct tape and called it ‘heartache.’ We all handled that box like it was filled with poison.”
Well, it kind of was. All of Leah’s old crayon scribbles—not all, but quite a few—and some homemade Mother’s Day cards and birthday cards. Yeah. That box stabbed her in the heart like a box of knives.
“Well, it was lighter than your engine.”
His arms relaxed. “Yeah. How’d the shooting lesson go?”
Double-edged question. He was really asking if she’d gotten any closer to Leah. “We came to a few conclusions. She doesn’t like guns and I need to be more of a mom and less of a wounded friend.”
“I’m not going to tell you that Leslie has already told you this several times before.”
“Thank you for not telling me what you just told me.”
“You’re so cleverly welcome.”
&nb
sp; Paige smiled and relaxed onto his chest. Sex was good.
But this? This was better. Didn’t release all the right hormones, maybe, but this filled holes in her soul she didn’t known she still had.
“So, she doesn’t like guns.”
“Nope. We shot mine and the .22, and no-go. She hated it.”
“She wore the earmuffs, right?” His tone sounded wounded, like the idea that Leah didn’t like guns hurt him.
“Yes. But it’s not about her liking guns, Dexx. It’s about her knowing how to handle one.”
“Right.” His voice wound down like he was disappointed. “Right. I guess, but I really hoped she’d like them.”
Why? No. She didn’t need to know. Not really. “She actually seemed to want me to be mean.”
“Not mean, Pea.” Dexx resituated and dragged her to him. “Fair. Be fair.”
“I’m going to be. I wasn’t planning on being rude because she’d given me permission.”
“Though, you should totally do that because you wouldn’t be a responsible parent if you weren’t sometimes rude to your kids. On purpose.”
“What rulebook did you read that out of?”
“The one I’ve been writing.”
Paige raised up on her elbow. “You’ve been writing a book?”
“You bet I have.” He gave her a cocky smile. “How to Be an Awesome Parent While Pissing Your Kids Off. I’m going to be a bestseller on that US something bestseller’s list.”
“USA Today’s Bestsellers List?”
“Yeah. That one.”
“Have you been, I don’t know, writing it?”
“Well, I’ve been jotting down the notes. Chapter titles mostly. I’ll probably find a ghost writer who’ll write it all for me, but I’ve got the real gold right here.” He double-tapped his temple with his finger.
Paige lay back down on him, shaking her head. “You going to be okay working with my division instead of opening your own PI firm?”
He made a grunting noise. “I wasn’t really looking forward to opening my own firm. There’s a lot of work that I don’t like doing. The paperwork kind. And I wasn’t for sure how to even get any clients. Honestly, when I went to Chuck about helping me out, he turned me down. Said I needed a business plan and when I asked what that was, he told me to talk to Leslie.”
“Apparently, she has an amazing one.”
“Um, yes, actually she does. And when I saw it and she started telling me the things I needed to do to build one, I pretty much decided I needed a new plan for work.”
She hmm’ed. “That sounds about right.”
“Hey. Ask me to fix a car, move some furniture, kill a deer and bring it to the butcher. That’s all good. I can do that. Ask me to kill a demon. I got that, too. But paperwork? Yeah. No. It just doesn’t work for me.”
“There will be paperwork to do at work, and I’m not going to do it for you.” She needed to draw this line and define it well. “The only one carrying your weight will be you.”
“But I bring experience.”
“And when the team has that experience, or enough to hold their own? They’re not going to want to carry you along for your ‘experience.’ They’ll want to stop working with you because you refuse to do your own work.”
He quirked his lips. “Fine.”
“You’ll have to learn how to do more than surf the web on the computer.”
“I know how to open Word.”
“That’s…great.”
“I can even open Excel.” His tone held a hint of boastfulness.
“Well, I certainly am glad about that.”
“On a serious note, I’ve been taking classes because I knew this was going to come up. There are some pretty good ones on-line. They’re even free.”
“Awesome.” She’d heard there were more of those for anyone to take and they weren’t bad. “You’re really awesome with Bobby. Do you know that?”
“I try. Thanks for noticing. You know, that little guy really grows on a person.”
He did. There was a part of her that held back because he wasn’t hers. He was her best friend’s son. Her dead best friend’s son. Guilt. Though, why did she still feel like that after so many months?
Because she hadn’t caught her killer.
But, apparently, Tarik had. Thank goodness.
Did that mean she could let it rest? Could she be Bobby’s mother without feeling guilty she hadn’t killed the djinni that had murdered his real mother?
She didn’t know.
They lay in quiet for a long moment.
“How are you doing with him?” Dexx asked. “You still seem a little distant.”
“Well, I don’t mean to.” Yes, there was the guilt of not catching Heather’s killer, but there was more, too, and she could only admit it to him. “I’m still afraid he’ll disappear from me. He’s not mine. Not really. Someone could come, kill him, steal him. The angels could swing by and say, ‘Oh, whoops. Our bad, but we have a better idea. Thanks! Bye!’ And then where would I be? I’ve already had one child torn from me. I won’t survive two. Not if I take him into my heart like that.”
“Well, you should, I think, because he is your son. You’re his only mother. And if someone comes and kills him, you can mourn him with your missing limbs and scratched out eyeballs.”
“What?”
“That’s what’s going to happen in order for someone to get through you to kill him.”
She chuckled. “You’re sick.” But the salve she needed.
“I’m honest. Pea, seriously. You defend the people you love in a scary, don’t-get-in-her-way kind of way. It’s awesome and a little terrifying. I gotta say. So, love him. Keep Rachel as far away as possible.”
“Oh, crap. Rachel. I promised the court to redefine visitations after we got up here. Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
“Ugh. I hate that woman.”
“I think that you hate the fact that you still love her.”
“Oh, I don’t.”
“Deep down.”
His low, deep voice hit her in a corner of her heart she never acknowledged, and there it was. The tiny worm of love Paige harbored for her mother. The woman who used to read to her before bedtime, who used to tuck her in at night.
Paige swallowed. “I hate you.”
“I love you more.” He hugged her close. “And if we just stay close, like this, no one will be able to harm your kids or your family. Not the angels. Not Rachel.”
“And not Merry Eastwood.”
“No. And not Merry Eastwood.”
Paige hoped he was right.
Paige had an early morning meeting scheduled with Chief Tuck. So she left, letting Dexx drop the kids off at school. He promised not to set fire to the house or kill the kids, she told him she loved him, and she was out the door.
Oh, those little moments.
Tuck sat in his 4WD suburban, waiting for her.
Great. She hadn’t even had coffee yet. She got out of the car, unlocked the doors to the building, and headed for the break area to brew up a pot, not saying a word.
He seemed to understand.
She went to her office behind the bullpen and set down her stuff, laying the folders on her desk.
“Had a chance to comb through some of those?” Tuck asked, gesturing to the files.
“Not as many as I’d like.” The coffee spot sputtered and gurgled in that familiar way, letting her know that the coffee was done. Awesome. She retrieved her cup from her desk and headed back to the break area.
Tuck followed, not saying anything.
It should have been a little creepy, probably, but it wasn’t. His expression was relaxed, his shoulders loose. He just probably didn’t know where she was going to stop. She poured her cup. “Heading to the back door to watch the sun come up.”
He nodded and grabbed a spare cup from the cupboard. “I’ll join you, then.”
“Great.” She led the way to the back door. “You’ve probably had a f
ew cups of this already.”
“Eh,” he said with a shrug, sipping from his cup. “I haven’t had kids in the house for years. You’d be amazed at how much free time you have when they leave.”
When they leave. Just the thought of it twisted her heart.
He chuckled. “Give it time. Once they become teenagers, you’ll be looking forward to them leaving. Then, you get all twisted because you’re happy they’re gone. And then you realize how much free time you have to do those things you used to like to do and never had time for. And then you wonder why you had kids in the first place. And then, you want more kids because you miss them. And then you get grandkids that remind you why you should be glad you didn’t have more kids.”
Paige chuckled and exited the building. The sky was peach colored in spots as the sun rose over the tree-lined mountain. “Sounds like you’ve been over this rollercoaster.”
“Yeah, well, I guess. My wife went through all that. Lost her to cancer last year.”
Oh. “Sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be. We had a great life. She lived it to the fullest all the way to the end.”
She’d never received intimate details of any of her boss’ lives. Not even Henry and they’d shared family meals. This was…weird with the opportunity to be nice. “Sounds like quite a woman.”
He smiled at her from behind his coffee mug. “Oh, she was.”
She realized she should have been more worried about the case files he’d dumped on her. He wanted progress reports. Well, not progress really because he’d just handed them to her, but an idea of how she planned to approach it at least.
But this? Getting to know the man? And since he’d offered part of himself, she should offer a little bit about herself. “I’m worried about my grandmother.”
“Oh?” He looked at her, his blue eyes bright with interest.
So, that was why he was there, too. Good. She hadn’t misread that. On the job, she could read people, no sweat. On a personal basis, though? She sucked at it.
“Why’s that?”
“Well…” How to say it without getting him all bent out of shape. “She’s getting up in age.”
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