Jagged (Colorado Mountain #5)(3)

It wasn’t about lack of trust. It was about belonging to someone. It was about them having pride in that and wanting everyone to know it, especially you.

Ham looked like a man who would be that way. Knowing I wasn’t the only friend he enjoyed benefits with and his ask-no-questions, tell-no-lies approach to relationships proved he just wasn’t.

“No, Greg’ll be cool with that,” I told him and I shouldn’t have. With nothing holding him back, that meant Ham would go out of his way to hit Gnaw Bone, take me to lunch. I’d have to see him, want him, and, as ever, not have him. But this time, it would be worse. I wouldn’t have him at all, including in some of the really good ways I liked to have him.

“Okay, babe, I’ll call when I’m close,” he said.

“Right,” I murmured.

“Now you get to bed, go back to sleep,” he ordered.

That was not going to happen.

“Okay, Ham.”

“See you soon, darlin’.”

“Look forward to it, honey.”

“’Night, darlin’.”

“’Night, Ham.”

He disconnected and I stared out at the parking lot.

That was it. He wanted lunch. He wanted to continue the connection even if the connection had changed.

That was good.

But he wasn’t devastated or even slightly miffed that I was moving on, changing our connection.

That was very bad.

I bent my neck until my head hit the cool glass of the window and I stared at the cars in the lot without seeing them.

I did this for a long time.

Then I pulled myself together, moved from the window, made coffee, did laundry, and cleaned my apartment.

* * *

Five days later…

I sat in a booth at the side of The Mark, a restaurant in town. I had a ginger ale bubbling on the table in front of me. I was in the side of the booth where I could see the front windows and door.

I knew Ham was about to show because, ten minutes ago, I saw his big, silver Ford F-350 with the trailer hitched to the back holding his vintage Harley slide by. With that massive truck and the addition of a trailer, it would take him a while to find a good parking spot.

But he could walk in any second now.

I was nervous. I was excited.

I was sad.

And I knew I should never have agreed to this.

More sunlight poured through the restaurant and I looked from my ginger ale to the door to see it was open and Ham was moving through. I watched as he smiled at Trudy, a waitress at The Mark who was standing at the hostess station. He gave a head jerk my way. Trudy turned to look at me, smiled, and turned back to Ham, nodding.

Then I watched Ham walk to me.

Ham Reece was not graceful. He was too big to be graceful. He didn’t walk. He trudged.

But he was built. He was a bear of a man, tall and big. His mass of thick, dark hair was always a mess. He constantly looked like he’d either just gotten off the back of a bike he’d been riding wild and fast for hours or like he’d just gotten out of bed after he’d been riding a woman wild and fast for hours.

Now was no different, even though he’d just spent hours in the cab of his truck.

It looked good on him.

It always did.

Although big, he was fit and he worked at it. It was not lost on him with the years he’d put in in bars that he needed to be on the top of his game so, although not quick, he was in shape. He ran a lot. He also lifted. Every time I’d been with him, he’d found time to do what he needed to do, even if he was doing crunches on the floor of a hotel with his arms wrapped around something heavy held to his chest.

This meant he had great abs. Great lats. Great thighs. A great ass.

Just great all around.

Yes, I should never have agreed to this.

He got close. His eyes that started out a tawny brown at the irises and radiated out to a richer, darker brown at the edge of his pupils were lit with his smile as his lips grinned at me while he approached.

I slid out of the booth.

Two seconds later, Ham slid his arms around me.

“Hey, cookie,” he greeted, his voice jagged. My lungs deflated. He was happy to see me.

“Hey, darlin’.” I gave him a squeeze.

He returned the squeeze and let me go but didn’t step away.

His eyes caught mine and he stated, “Pretty as ever.”

“Hot as could be,” I returned, and his grin got bigger as he lifted a hand toward my face.

I braced, waiting for it. No, anticipating it with sheer delight.

But I didn’t get it. His grin faded, his hand dropped away, and then he took a half step back and gestured to the booth.

That was when I felt it, all I’d lost with Ham. One could say it wasn’t much but when you had him for the brief periods you had him, you had him. His attention, his affection, his easy, sweet touches, his deep voice that could go jagged with tenderness or desire. I knew that others might look at what we had and think I hadn’t lost much, but they would be wrong. And I knew in that instant exactly how much I was losing.

It hurt like hell.

“Slide your ass in, darlin’,” he ordered but didn’t wait until I did. He moved to the other side.

I slid in, Ham slid in across from me, and Trudy arrived at our table.

“Drink?” she asked.