Mystery Man (Dream Man #1)(44)

He lifted a hand and tucked hair behind my ear while his soulful, dark brown eyes watched then he rested his hand curled around my neck, his warm palm at my throat.

This was nice too. Too nice.

His eyes came back to mine. “Yeah, I’m right.”

“We’re not like this, Meredith, Dad and me,” I assured him quickly, not certain why I was doing it, just feeling the need to do it. “Ginger is…” I shook my head, “she’s different than the rest of us. I don’t know why, she just always has been. She’s –”

“I know, Gwendolyn,” he said gently in a way that made me know he knew.

I nodded, feeling relief and his fingers gave my neck a squeeze.

Right then the backdoor opened; Lawson and my heads turned and Hawk was there.

He was wearing much what he was wearing the first time I laid eyes on him. The tailored shirt was midnight blue this time but no less fantastic. Jeans. Boots. Great belt. Black leather jacket that was an awesome style and hung great on his broad shoulders. And a Nordstrom’s bag dangling from his hand. No, a Nordstrom’s shoe bag dangling from his hand.

My body stiffened and Lawson’s hands gripped me tighter.

Hawk closed the door behind him but didn’t tear his eyes from Lawson and me.

Then he put his hands on his hips, the bag banging against his thigh.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” I said hurriedly.

“Yeah,” Lawson replied at the same time.

I took a careful step back and Lawson’s hands fell away.

This was when Lawson and Hawk went into a macho man, death match stare down.

I stepped into the non-verbal, motionless fray before it became verbal and full of motion.

“He just came by to ask me to call if I see or hear from Ginger,” I explained to Hawk.

Hawk’s eyes had cut to me when I spoke but the second I finished, they cut back to Lawson.

“Thought I made myself clear,” he growled.

“You did,” Lawson returned. “But you’ll remember, I didn’t agree.”

“You do not use my woman to make your career,” Hawk went on like Lawson didn’t speak.

I pressed my lips together and got tense mainly because I felt anger, and a lot of it, rolling off Lawson then I heard it in the rumble of his quiet voice.

“Careful,” he warned.

“She is not in this,” Hawk continued. “Ginger doesn’t exist for her. That’s what’s in here and that’s what’s communicated on the street.”

“Last two nights proved that wrong, Hawk, Ginger’s unpredictable and you know it.”

“Right, but any of that shit goes down, it gets communicated through me, not Gwen.”

“She gets desperate,” Lawson started, “and by the way, Ginger Kidd passed desperate about a week ago, she’s gonna make extreme choices. Gwendolyn is in that line of fire. You and your boys are good, Hawk, but you can’t cover her twenty-four, seven and keep your other shit in line.”

“Let me worry about that,” Hawk returned.

“She needs to know what to do,” Lawson replied.

“Yeah, and I’ll tell her,” Hawk shot back.

Another macho man, death match stare down ensued but luckily before it could advance to hand-to-hand combat, Lawson broke the stare down and looked at me.

“You have my card,” he said and I nodded because I did have his card, I just didn’t know what happened to it. He nodded back and finished, “I’ll let myself out.”

Then he leaned into me, right in front of Hawk, bent and kissed the hinge of my jaw, his lips causing goose bumps to rise on my skin.

Oh boy.

He lifted his head, looked in my eyes and whispered, “Stay safe, you need anything, even if it’s just to talk, call me.”

I nodded.

His gaze sliced through Hawk then he walked out of the kitchen and into the living room.

I watched while practicing deep breathing. Then, slowly, I turned to Hawk to see he hadn’t moved. He was still standing there with his hands to his hips, the Nordstrom’s bag hanging from his fingers, his eyes on me with a look in them that could only be described as un… hap… pee.

Uh-oh.

Chapter Twelve

The Us You Wanted Us to Be

I stared at Hawk and Hawk stared at me. When his unhappy look didn’t shift, I decided to speak.

“Hey,” I said.

He kept staring at me. Then he moved to the table lifting the Nordstrom’s bag and pulling out a familiar box with the words “Jimmy Choo” on the top. It wasn’t familiar because I owned a box like that, just that I’d seen them the multiple times I’d tried on a pair of Jimmy Choos. He dumped the bag on the table and then put the box on the table. Then he sent it sliding down the table toward me.

As it was shoes, and Jimmy Choo shoes, reflexively I moved fast, my hand carrying my clutch darting out to catch it before something tragic happened, like a pair of Jimmy Choo shoes falling to the floor.

With my hand resting on the box, I looked at Hawk, my heart beating fast.

“What’s this?” I asked.

He dipped his head to the box and growled, “Open it.”

Hmm. Still unhappy.

I dropped my clutch and wrap to the table, picked up the box and opened it.