Games of the Heart (The ‘Burg #4)(114)
Author: Kristen Ashley

When I left, Fin, who helped Mike, Dad and me with my suitcases and boxes, was standing in the foyer of our house grinning at me, his face knowing.

Mom and Dad were exchanging glances wishing I was twenty years younger so they could lecture me on moving in with a man out of wedlock because they knew at my age they absolutely could not.

Rhonda was biting her lip and giving me looks. I had no idea what this meant but then again, all the time I’d spent with her in my life and especially recently, I had no idea how Rhonda’s head worked.

Mike had shared with the kids when they got home last night this was happening. That meant today I received fourteen (yes, fourteen) excited texts from Rees about how she was happy another girl was moving in. Then about how we could share makeup. Then she asked if she could borrow my clothes. Then she asked if we were going to bake another cake because she wanted to make one for Fin. And this went on.

I got one text from No that said, “Yo. Cool. Moving in. See u Sun. Ur on schedule. U vac and dust this wk. L8r.”

So clearly Mike hadn’t lied. They were cool with it. Rees got a new wardrobe and No got another week of being lazy before he had to do chores.

Both worked for me.

I hit the room and dumped my carryon on the bed and my bag beside it. Mike dumped my bags on the floor next to the one I’d dropped. Then he tagged my neck, pulled me to him and brushed his mouth against mine.

When he lifted away he muttered, “Haulin’ for you is done. You settle in. Cleared some drawers and shifted stuff in the closet. You’re good to go. I’ll go get your other bags and take your boxes down to the basement. Then we’ll order Shanghai Salon. I’ll grab the menu.”

Then he let me go and walked out of the room.

I watched him do it, liking the way he moved. His body was long and lean, his limbs loose. Even when he was younger, I liked the way Mike moved. There was a confidence to it, an easiness. I used to love to watch him play basketball, I never missed one of his games. I even begged and pleaded with my Dad to take me to away games just so I could watch Mike move.

I drew in breath and looked around the room.

My house in Texas was awesome, the rooms big, the windows huge.

But this room was way bigger, so was the closet and the bathroom off Mike’s room was a woman’s dream. It even had a sunken oval tub. Heaven. The balcony far from sucked and I loved it that I could see my family’s farm from there. It was like I was still home but without the hassle of living with five other people sharing one bathroom. I had a closet which I hadn’t had even in the guest room since Rhonda had a bunch of stuff packed in there. I got a room that smelled like Mike’s aftershave. And I got to sleep in a big, six thousand dollar bed with Mike.

My eyes glided through the room, taking it in. Layla had followed her Dad so I was alone. I had a moment to savor it, so I took it.

Then my eyes hit on them and I froze.

On the nightstand next to what was my side of the bed when I was with Mike there was a bouquet of roses. The deepest, richest red mixed with the deepest richest peach. The peach was a peach so deep I’d never seen anything like it. The bouquet was huge. There had to be a dozen of each. Long-stemmed but the blooms had been arranged close in a vivid, velvety dome.

Woodenly, my eyes never leaving them, I walked toward them because out of the blooms stuck a white card. And on the outside of the card it said, Dusty.

I lifted my hand and grabbed the card. The paper of the envelope was expensive, thick. I flipped it open and pulled out the card inside. No picture. Nothing. It was just white and had a line embossed around the edges.

In Mike’s scrawl in black ink it said, Welcome home, Angel.

I stared at the black scrawl then I heard Layla’s dog tags jingling and I knew Mike was coming back. So I lifted my head and aimed my eyes at the double doors that led to his room.

He walked in carrying two more suitcases.

I stood there. Still. Frozen. Looking at the most handsome man I’d ever seen in my life. The man I fell in love with when he was still mostly a boy. The man who raised two great kids against the odds. The man who kept the streets of my hometown safe. The only man outside my brother and father who even tried to take care of me, he did it in a way that was beautiful, precious, so I let him.

The man who made me happy.

The man who was happy being with me.

Mike’s eyes came to me, they dropped to the card in my hand but he didn’t miss a step and took the new bags next to the ones he’d already brought up. Then he dropped them to the floor.

Then he held my eyes and noted, “You aren’t unpacking.”

“I love you,” I whispered.

His face went soft and God, God, he was so f**king beautiful.

“I’m a guy,” he stated bizarrely then went on equally bizarrely, “I don’t live and breathe clean. But I prefer it. Have I just bought myself a life of pickin’ my way through your jeans, tees, belts, bras and panties to get to the bathroom?”

“I love you,” I whispered.

He smiled a beautiful smile.

Then he muttered, “I’m takin’ it that means yes.”

He didn’t sound the least bit peeved.

God, God, I loved him.

“I love you,” I whispered.

“You don’t do your week of vacuuming and dusting, No’s gonna freak.”

“I love you,” I repeated.

“And if his ass isn’t in front of the TV, he’s about music. Either he has it on or he’s playin’ it. Luckily, he’s good. Unfortunately, it’s constant. If you don’t like music, you’ll have to find a way to like it.”

“I love you.”

“And if Reesee isn’t with Fin, she’s on the phone with him or texting him. So you’ll have to get used to having half her attention at all times, including when Fin is here.”

“I love you.”

“My hours are erratic, honey. My job isn’t nine to five. I know bein’ with me for a while, you’ve experienced that but livin’ here, you’ll be livin’ it. You’ll need to get used to that too.”

“I love you.”

“You get Layla’s friendly. What you don’t get but will, and that’ll be constant too, is Layla’s friendly. She’s entirely unable to be on her own. She gets that when we’re all gone and she doesn’t like it. She makes sure we know it when we get home. I don’t want her to beg ever but especially when people are eating. The kids never got this concept so they’re always givin’ her shit. So she begs. I’ve given up. You’re free to eat what you want or share with the dog. I’ll leave that up to you.”