Lovely Trigger (Tristan & Danika #3)(12)

“Relax, okay?  We’re just friends now.  I’m seeing Adair now, and it’s going really well.  And I am done talking about this.  You turn into a nutcase when it comes to Tristan.  And vice versa.”

She wouldn’t talk about it anymore, no matter how I pried, but that didn’t mean it stopped bothering me.  It ate at me, because I still didn’t know what had happened, and probably never would.

CHAPTER FOUR

His name was Milton Sagar.  He was an NFL quarterback who’d just been drafted to play for San Diego.  I met him at a gallery showing in L.A. on a Friday night.  He came to visit me in the Vegas gallery on the following Monday.

He was charming, intelligent, good-looking, and very, very interested, and for the first time in a long time, I found that I was genuinely interested back.

Not good on paper interested.

Heart rate accelerating interested.

That hadn’t happened to me since Tristan.  I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or horrified by the development.

He was very persistent.  I turned him down twice.

He had huge arms, gorgeous black hair, kind blue eyes.  He even had dimples.  He probably flirted in his sleep.

He was just the type of guy I should avoid.

The third time he very charmingly asked me out, I said yes to having lunch with him in Vegas, on my break at work.  He flew in just to see me.

I had no intention of letting it go one step further than that.

“So you live in Vegas, but you work in L.A. a lot?” he asked me over appetizers.

I shook my head.  “Just the opposite.  I live in L.A., but I’m in Vegas quite a bit at the moment.  I’m managing both galleries until I can train someone here.”

“L.A. isn’t too far from San Diego.”  He smiled.

I smiled back, admiring his dimples.  I told myself I was utterly whacked in the head.

His smile faded just a tad.  “I have the strangest question for you.  I hope you don’t mind my bringing this up, but a buddy of mine told me something that’s been…bothering me.  I guess he knows your ex-husband.”

I was taking a drink of wine and nearly choked on it.  “My ex-husband?!” I asked, trying hard to sound casual.  “This friend of yours has the wrong girl.”

Only a few people on the planet knew I’d been married for one hot, dysfunctional minute.

He looked surprised but not displeased.  “Oh yeah?  Well, that’s good.  Obviously I can defend myself, but he had me spooked.”

I couldn’t leave it at that.  It was just too bizarre.  “What’s the name of this friend of yours?”

“Tristan Vega.  I’m sure you’ve seen him around.  He does the magic show here.  It’s really good.”

I felt myself pale.  Very carefully, I set down my glass, placing both hands carefully into my lap where I could clench them as hard as I needed to without looking crazy.  “What exactly did Tristan tell you?”

“Oh, so you do know him?  Not much.  He just kind of…warned me off, in a vague sort of way.  He said you had an ex-husband that was liable to stab me in my sleep if I laid a hand on you.  He said he was huge, and insanely violent when it came to you, or rather who you date.  He basically told me that your ex would go to jail for murder before he’d let you go out with a guy like me.”

The sheer gall of that, the utter hypocritical nerve of it made me want to scream.

I smiled tightly.  “Tristan has a twisted sense of humor.  He was just messing with you.  I was never married.”

We did, unfortunately, run into each other occasionally, but that night was the first time I’d sought Tristan out deliberately since the accident.

Working at the hotel got me backstage before his show, and eventually, his dressing room.  It was very handy to be on a first name basis with every security guard on the property.

He met me, his jaw clenched, at the door.

I barged in, fuming.  I waited to speak until he closed the door, giving us privacy.

“How dare you?!” I hissed, shaking.  It felt surreal to be alone in a room with him.  The only thing that made it bearable was my unadulterated rage.

“I know why you’re here,” he said calmly.  “I can explain.”

“Oh please do.  I would love to hear it.”

He took a few steps toward me, but I backed just as many steps away, keeping my distance.  “Don’t you dare try to touch me.”

He looked down, taking a deep breath.  “Of course, Danika.  I know how you feel about that.  I take it this is about Milton?”

I nodded, biting back several sarcastic things that came to mind.  “Of course it is.  Why else would I be here?”

I wanted to say so much more, about how my love life wasn’t his business, about how he didn’t get to kiss my sister and God only knew what else and then try to interfere in my life, but I held my tongue.  It was a herculean effort, but I did it.  I would not give him the satisfaction of knowing how much that bothered me, how it had kept me up at night, the doubt, the uncertainty.  Had I ever even known him at all?

“Why else indeed?  Listen, I told him that because—“