Games of the Heart (The 'Burg #4)(38)

I was beginning to get angry. “I’m not sure I want to come over just so you can tell me to my face you don’t want to hear from me again, Mike.”

This was met with silence.

Then, soft, sweet, “Angel, straight up, the conversation is not gonna be good. But trust me when I say I’m lookin’ out for you and you’ll wanna hear what I have to say face-to-face. Yeah?”

My voice was soft and not sweet when I replied, “Suffice it to say this is scaring me.”

“Dusty, face-to-face, honey,” he repeated.

“And nothing in between?” I asked.

“I need time,” he told me.

For what? I thought but didn’t ask.

Instead, I whispered, “Right.”

“Text me,” he ordered.

“Right,” I repeated.

More silence then from Mike, “One way or another, honey, you’ll be okay.”

One way or another, I’d be okay?

It was good he sounded sure.

I, however, was not.

“Right,” I said again.

“Take care, Dusty.”

The brush off, God. The brush off from Mike Haines. God!

“You too, Mike.”

“See you next weekend.”

“Right.”

“Later.”

I just disconnected.

Then I stared at my living room wall.

Times like these, I called my brother because he was my best friend but also because he was a man and he knew how men thought and was happy to provide insight.

But my brother wasn’t there to call.

“Welp, one way or another, I’ll be okay,” I muttered.

Then I burst out crying.

Chapter Five

Strike Three

Saturday, a week later, 2:00 p.m.

I walked up to Mike’s house a bundle of nerves.

I didn’t remember the last time I felt nervous. I didn’t get nervous. That just wasn’t me.

But I was nervous.

True to his word, Mike and I didn’t speak for the last week. We exchanged a few texts to decide a time and for him to give me his address. That was it.

So it was two o’clock on Saturday and I was there, seeing Mike for the first time since our weekend together even though I arrived back home again yesterday afternoon.

I’d left two weeks earlier never thinking if I was in town Mike would delay it an entire day before making some time to see me. Even if he had his kids.

But there it was.

I didn’t take the time Mike suggested we meet as a good sign. Two o’clock meant it was nowhere near lunch so he wouldn’t feel courtesy bound to suggest having a meal with me. Ditto for dinner. But, even though it was late January and the days were short, there was plenty of time for me to get home in the daylight after our chat. So if I was crying my eyes out while driving, I’d still have more visibility and thus less of a chance to die in a fiery ball of flame caused by a heartbroken car accident.

I didn’t have to drive seeing as Mike lived next door to the family farm. But I didn’t know which of the gates in the long fence that ran the length of the townhouses was his. So I drove.

But by the time I got up his walk and to his door, I lost my nerves and started to get pissed.

I didn’t know what all the drama was about. And I wasn’t a big fan of someone telling me they were going to lay bad news on me and making me wait for it until they were ready to tell me.

I didn’t think Mike would be like this. Ever. And it sucked he was.

So when I knocked, I knocked sharply.

He wanted to talk face-to-face, fine. I’d do that. I’d do that for the Mike who was a good friend to my brother for years. I’d do that for the Mike who gave me some unbelievably fantastic orgasms. And I’d do that for the Mike I once knew him to be who I adored.

But this shit was not going to be drawn out. Rhonda was even more skittish and freaked out than normal. Fin and Kirb were both handling her like a piece of fragile glass. Mom and Dad had clearly tried everything in their parenting arsenal to help out, as had Rhonda’s parents who still lived close and reportedly had been hovering daily, and no one knew what to do. So I had shit to see to.

Mike opened the door and I looked right him. First, I noted he hadn’t grown grotesque in the two weeks we’d been separated which was unfortunate. Second, I noticed that he had a gentle look on his face that wasn’t sweet, warm and openly gentle but cautious and distantly gentle.

This already wasn’t starting good.

He stepped back, opening the door wider saying, “Hey, Dusty.”

No “Angel”. Yep, not starting good.

“Hey,” I muttered, moving in as he clearly intended me to do and taking two steps in before stopping.

I didn’t look around. I was curious but damned if I was going to give into it. Mike was not in my future, this much I’d figured out. I didn’t need an in-my-face view of what I was going to be missing.

He closed the door and turned to me. I was already turned to him.

“You want a drink?” he asked.

“No, I want to get whatever this is done so I can get back to my family,” I answered.

He flinched and didn’t hide it.

Whatever. Mike obviously could be more than one kind of dick. Since he had awesome command of the real one on his body and he was gorgeous, this shouldn’t have been a surprise. It was my vast experience beautiful men who were good in bed tended to be total ass**les. If he was decent enough to feel guilt about that, that was not my problem.