Jagged (Colorado Mountain #5)(2)

“Takin’ a coupla days to pack and load up,” he continued. “Thought I’d swing your way, drag my shit in your place, unload the bike, and we could take off for a few days.”

The dread moved through me again as I tossed off the covers and threw my legs over the side of the bed.

“Ham—”

He cut me off. “You can’t close the shop. I’ll find somethin’ to do during the day and we’ll go out, do night rides.”

Night rides.

The best.

Oh God, I wanted to do that.

But I couldn’t do that.

“Darlin’—” I started.

“Or, you can swing it, I’ll hang with you for a few days, then you close up and take a vacation, ride with me down to Flag, hang with me for a while.”

He was talking time and lots of it.

And he wanted me to be with him for that time.

And, man, oh freaking man, I wanted to be with him for that while.

Not to mention, I’d heard Flagstaff was amazing. I lived in the mountains of Colorado so I knew amazing but that didn’t mean I didn’t want to check out Flag.

I pushed to my feet, moved through the dark to the window, and did this while talking.

“Honey, I have something to tell you.”

“Yeah?” he prompted when I said no more.

I pulled my curtains aside and looked at my not-so-spectacular view of the parking lot. They broke ground on my new house in one of Gnaw Bone’s land magnate, Curtis Dodd’s, developments only four days ago. In the meantime I was living in an apartment facing away from the mountains, with a view of nothing but cars, asphalt, and storage units.

In my new three-bedroom, two-and-half-bath house, I would have panoramas of the Colorado Rockies all around in a development that the HOA decreed would be appropriately, and attractively, xeriscaped.

I couldn’t wait.

Though I could wait for having a mortgage payment, but everyone had to grow up sometime.

This was my time.

“Zara, you there, babe?” Ham asked when I still didn’t speak.

“I’m seein’ someone.”

It came out in a rush and was met with nothing.

I held my breath and got more nothing.

“Ham?” I called when he didn’t speak.

“It exclusive?” he asked and I nearly smiled at the same time I nearly cried.

Again, pure Ham. No promises. No expectations. He called when he called. I called when I called. We hooked up if it worked and we enjoyed ourselves tremendously when we did. If it didn’t work, both of us were disappointed (me probably more, but I never let on) but we kept on keeping on, waiting for the next call. The next hookup. The next two days or two weeks when we’d hang out, have fun, laugh, eat, drink, and make love.

Ham understood the concept of exclusive; he just didn’t utilize it. He’d respect it, if necessary. But, if he could, he’d also find ways to work around it.

So Ham had no hold on me like I had no hold on him. He had other women, I knew. He didn’t hide it nor did he shove it in my face.

He asked no questions about other men.

He wanted it that way.

I did not, but I never said a word because I suspected, if I did, I’d lose him.

Now, he’d lost me.

I just wondered how he’d feel about that.

“We’ve been seein’ each other for almost four months. We haven’t had that discussion but exclusive is implied,” I answered quietly.

“You into him?” Ham asked.

There was a smile in my voice when I reminded him, “We’ve been seein’ each other for almost four months, darlin’.”

But the smile hid my uncertainty.

My boyfriend, Greg, was a great guy. He was steady. He was sweet. He was quiet and there was no drama. He was better than average looking. And there was no doubt he was into me and also no doubt that I liked knowing that.

There was doubt, though. All on my side and all of it had to do with if I was into him.

But I wasn’t getting any younger. I wanted kids. I wanted to build a family. I wanted to do it in a way that it would take, no fighting, cheating, drama, heartbreak, all this ending in divorce. I wanted to be settled. I wanted to come home at night knowing what my evening would bring. I wanted to wake up the next morning next to someone, knowing what my day would bring. I wanted to give my kids, when I had them, stability and safety.

I also wanted that for myself. I’d never had it, not in my life.

And I wanted it.

And, after being friends with benefits with Graham Reece for five years, I knew that was not going to happen with him. No matter how much I wanted it to.

“So you’re into him,” I heard him mutter.

“Yeah,” I replied and tried to make that one word sound firm.

“Right, then, will he have a problem, I swing by and take you to lunch?” Ham asked.

No, Greg wouldn’t have a problem with that. Greg didn’t get riled up about much and I knew he wouldn’t even get riled up about an ex-lover swinging by to take me to lunch.

Thus me having doubts. Part of me felt I should be cool with a man who trusted me not to f**k him over. Part of me wanted a man who detested the idea of his woman spending time with an ex-lover. Possessiveness was hot. A man who staked his claim, marked his territory.