Games of the Heart (The 'Burg #4)(11)

“You really don’t beat around the bush, do you?” I whispered, liking that too.

A whole lot.

“Got two kids, a bitch of an ex-wife who made my life a misery and went through somethin’ which meant I lost my shot at a good thing that would make me happy. Since I had a taste of a good thing, I know what I’m lookin’ for. And since I lost that, I’m not a man prone to dickin’ around. Not anymore.”

There it was. He didn’t beat around the bush.

Yep, I liked that.

A whole lot.

“I’ll search my feelings while you’re gone, Mike,” I told him softly.

That was when he walked to the bed, reached out, grasped my h*ps and pulled me toward him. When he had me where he wanted me, he put a hand in the bed on either side of my h*ps and leaned in so his face was an inch away from mine.

Then, softly back, he said, “I’d appreciate that, Dusty.”

All that was hot. Every word he’d said. Every move he’d made.

And that had nothing to do with me working through pain.

Not one thing.

It was just hot.

“Now,” he ordered, “kiss me.”

That was hot too so I leaned up and pressed my mouth to his.

His arm sliced around my back and pulled me up harder so my body was pressed to his and he took my lip touch straight to a hard, deep, wet kiss.

I liked that a whole lot more.

“Be back, no later than thirty,” he whispered against my lips when he stopped kissing me.

I gave a slight nod in the space he allowed and tried to regulate my breathing.

I watched his eyes smile.

Then he set me in bed, let me go, sat on the side of the bed and dealt with his socks and shoes.

“Keycard, nightstand,” I told him when he stood. He looked down at me. Not done giving me Mike Lovin’, he wrapped a hand around the back of my head, leaned in and touched his mouth to mine.

Then he let me go again, stretched out an arm and nabbed his phone. Then he reached down, grabbed his suit jacket and I watched him move to the nightstand, tag the keycard then I watched him lift a hand, flick out two fingers and shoot me a grin before he left the room.

The door had just closed behind him when I dropped to my back and stared at the ceiling.

Moments passed before, my eyes on the ceiling, I asked my brother, “Happy?”

Darrin didn’t reply but I knew my brother. No way in hell he’d want to leave the wife he loved, the boys who meant the world to him, a father who he respected and taught him how to be a man, the mother who doted on him and taught him how to love or the sisters who worked his nerves but he loved all the same.

Still, I figured, once he knew we’d all sorted out our shit, he was making a mental note to do cartwheels.

*

I’d cleaned up, made certain my hair wasn’t a mess (it was, the knot I’d tied it in around a ponytail holder had gone wonky so I just pulled it out) and I’d tugged on my panties and tee when my cell rang.

I snatched it up, looked at the display and fought the urge to hurl it across the room.

Fuck. Beau. My most recent ex. That was to say, he was recent in the sense he was the latest guy I’d broken up with not recent in the sense that I broke up with him recently. We’d been officially done and I’d kicked his ass out nearly four months ago. We’d been unofficially done for eight months before that. We’d been teetering on done for six months before that.

Beau just didn’t get that we were Grade A Certified Capital D Done.

And I knew if I didn’t take this call, he’d call me again and again until I did. This was part of how he was working my nerves and had been since I’d kicked his ass out. And considering I had a sister-in-law, two beloved nephews and a Mom and Dad close who had all lost a loved one, I didn’t want to turn off my phone.

Goddamn it. Beau.

When Mike got back, I was going to ask him if he knew how to commit the perfect murder.

Then I hit the button on the screen to take the call and put it to my ear.

“Seriously?” I used as my greeting.

“Dusty, baby,” he said softly.

He knew I loved my brother. He knew we were close. Since he’d lived with me, he had firsthand knowledge that Darrin and I talked on the phone once or twice a week. He knew I doted on my nephews. He knew I, unlike my sister, loved Rhonda. He knew I was grieving and he thought he could use it to get back in there.

“Beau, I’m kinda busy,” I informed him.

“Are you doing okay?” he asked me.

“No. Darrin died four days ago and I’m home in The ‘Burg with my sister breathing my airspace however distantly. It’s still closer than when she’s in DC working to get ra**sts free and I’m in Texas trying to forget my parents birthed three children. So no, I’m not okay.”

“You stayin’ long? You want me to fly up?”

Why was he so dense?

“Beau, not to be a bitch or anything but what have I done in the last four months that would give you the impression I want you to fly up and be here with me?”

“Dusty, times like these are tough,” he reminded me.

“Uh, yeah, Beau. I’m getting that.”

“And you need to be around people who care about you.”

“No, I need to be around people I want to be around, ergo, not you. Again, not to be a bitch or anything,” I added, well, so I wouldn’t be a bitch or anything even while I was totally being a bitch.