At Peace (The 'Burg #2)(35)

And now, so was Joe.

I watched him walk up to Colt who was manning the burgers, dogs and brats at the barbeque, baby Jack held to Colt’s hip. They did man nods and then Joe leaned down to the cooler by the grill and nabbed himself a cold one.

I guessed he was done with my super-sophisticated alarm system. He must be good. It didn’t take long; he was only working at it a few hours.

I sipped my margarita, glared at him and told Cheryl, “Don’t go there.”

“Hunh?” Cheryl asked.

I didn’t know her, I’d seen her at J&J’s a couple of times, she’d made me a drink or two. However, we’d been sitting out in the sun together drinking margaritas for at least thirty minutes. In some circles of American females, this meant you were automatic BFFs.

Therefore, I repeated, “Don’t go there. Player.”

“And you know this…?” Cheryl let that hang, I turned my head and just gave her a look.

Her eyes got wide then she noted, “I didn’t peg you as the type.”

“What type?”

“The type to get played.”

I shook my head. “Seein’ as I’ve had two men in my bed, my husband, who took my virginity when I was seventeen, and him,” I tilted my head toward Joe, “I’m not.”

At this news, Cheryl’s eyes got even wider. “No joke?”

I shook my head again. “No joke.”

“Wow,” she whispered.

“Wow is right,” I returned.

“What happened to your husband? Divorce?”

“He was shot in the head by a gangster.”

Her mouth dropped open, her face went pale and I felt like a shit, telling her like that. I’d never told anyone like that, hell, I didn’t think I ever told anyone. Barry, Tim’s partner, and Pam, Barry’s wife, had made all the calls.

“It was awhile ago,” I explained, my voice gentler. “He was a cop.”

The surprise slid out of her face, her hand came out and she gave my knee a quick squeeze before it moved away.

“Rough,” she murmured and I nodded to that understatement. “How long ago?”

“Year and a half.”

“Then not that long ago.”

I looked at my feet. “Nope.”

“You wanna talk?”

I looked at her and repeated quietly, “Nope.”

“You do…”

Seriously, the folks in this ‘burg were so nice.

It was my turn to squeeze her knee so I did and muttered, “Thanks.”

She turned her head and her gaze went to Joe. My gaze went to anywhere but Joe.

“Was he good?” she asked curiously.

Good wasn’t the word for it, in fact, there were no words for it.

I decided not to tell her that, instead I said, “Yeah.”

Her head turned back to me and softly, she said, “Be fun to play, hon, been awhile for me and let’s just say I’ve had a few more boys in my bed than you. But only…” she paused, “you done with him?”

I wasn’t done with him, he was done with me which totally made me done with him.

“Oh yeah, I’m done.”

“You mind?” she asked.

“Have at it,” I invited, though I had to admit it hurt, thinking of Joe moving on even though I knew it shouldn’t and I didn’t even know why it did.

It was sex, just sex, he told me so his damned self. I was an adult, I knew the score. My girlfriends who hadn’t found the man they adored at fifteen years old had been telling me stories like this for ages. Apparently, since Tim was dead, it was my turn to get f**ked over by an ass**le.

However, since I liked Cheryl, I added, “But check your heart at the door.”

Her brows went up. “You didn’t?”

“What?”

“Check your heart at the door.”

I shook my head again. “I didn’t fall for him but I thought there was something there. I was an idiot. It had been… losing Tim…” I licked my lips and Cheryl waited silently while I pulled it together, took a deep breath and finished. “Let’s just say, he made me feel like a moron because there wasn’t anything there. Nothing. Just sex. He was done with me fast, it lasted only a coupla days and he’s my next door neighbor.”

Cheryl was staring at me when she said, “Jesus.”

“Yep.”

She looked back at Joe, mumbling, “Maybe I’ll steer clear.”

“That’d be my advice.”

“Still, he’s hot,” Cheryl was still mumbling and I forgot about Joe and me and looked at her.

She was very pretty, a lot of blonde hair cut to hit her shoulders, fake boobs, long legs, attractive meat at her hips. She dressed kind of slutty but she worked it and it looked good on her. Her black skirt was super short, her white tank was super tight, she had on a black bra you could see through the tank and she was wearing high-heeled silver slut sandals even though we were at a backyard barbeque.

But the look she was giving Joe after what I told her made me think she might not be so good at picking men.

This was confirmed when she asked curiously, still checking out Joe, “You know how he got those scars?”

“Nope. Don’t know much about him. We didn’t talk.”