“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.
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,
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.
“Beer,” Ham answered.
“Got a preference?” Trudy went on.
“Cold,” Ham told her.
She smiled at him then at me and took herself off.
Ham didn’t touch the menu sitting in front of him. He’d been to The Mark more than once. Anyone who had knew what they wanted.
His eyes came to me.
“How much time you got?” he asked.
“Couldn’t find anyone to look after the shop so I had to close it down,” I said by way of answer.
“In other words, not long,” he surmised and he was right.
I owned a shop in Gnaw Bone called Karma. Ham had been there. Ham knew how much work it was. Ham also knew all about my dream of having my own place, being my own boss, answering to no one, and surrounding myself with cool stuff made by cool people. He also knew it was hard work and that I put in that hard work. There were things we didn’t discuss but that didn’t mean we didn’t talk and do it deep. Not only when we were together but when one or the other of us got the itch to call. We could talk on the phone for hours and we did.
So I knew Ham, too.
I nodded. “I did try to find someone but—”
“Don’t worry about it, darlin’,” he muttered.
“Are you stayin’ in town?” I asked. “Maybe, tomorrow—”
“Headed out after this, babe.”
I nodded again, trying not to feel as devastated as I felt, an effort that was doomed to fail so it did.
“Thought you’d look different,” Ham noted and I focused on his handsome face, taking in the exquisite shape of his full lips, his dark-stubbled strong jaw, the tanned, tight skin stretching across his cheekbones, the heavy brow over those intelligent eyes that was the source of him looking not-so-vaguely threatening.
“What?” I asked.
“Got a man, you’re into him, you two got some time in, thought you’d look different.”
I forced a smile. “And how would I look different, babe?”
“Happy.”
My smile died.
Ham didn’t miss it.
His intelligent eyes grew sharp on my face. “This a good guy?”
“Yeah,” I answered. It was quick, firm, and honest.
