“You look pretty good for your years,” I say, holding my bottle toward her in salute. “I thought you were a decade or so younger when we first met.”
She smiles at the compliment. “I work hard at it,” she explains. “My anti-wrinkle cream works miracles.”
Perhaps I could do with some of that myself, though I suspect it’s too late. The wind and sun have weathered my skin beyond the point of any hope of return.
“Am I a bad mom?”
The question comes out of left field, and for a second, I’m stuck for an adequate response. “No, you’re not.”
“I worry Alicia hasn’t a dad—someone else who could be there to help direct her down the right path.”
“And you think she’d listen to him any more than she would to you?” I lean forward, putting my beer down on the coffee table. “Kids will be kids, Mary, and adults walk behind them to clear up the mess. This situation is looking dire right now, I know, but we’ll sort it. We’ll make sure there’ll be no repercussions. Sure, Alicia’s head is fucked up right now, but not many people are lucky enough to have a first time that means much. What about you, Mary? Were you a virgin when you married?
“I was twenty-seven, Grumbler. So hardly. How old were you when you lost yours?”
I grin widely, knowing I’m going to shock her, but I’m not going to lie. “I was twelve.”
“Twelve?” she squeaks.
“In my defence, the girl was sixteen and thought I was older. I was tall for my age.” Sometimes I wonder whether starting early has caused my lack of interest in recent years. Maybe I literally only had so many fucks to give.
Though, casting a sideways glance toward Mary, seeing her giggling like a young girl, makes my dick twitch for the second time today. No one has sparked my interest in ages. But she’s got baggage, she comes with a kid, and I’m not a family man. I tell my dick there’s no fucking chance and force it to behave once again.
I turn my attention back to safer things, the television. She’s got me hooked on this fucking series. When the episode finishes, we watch another, and then put one more on. By then, I see her eyes starting to droop, and I stifle a yawn.
“Go to bed, doll.”
Her hand covers her mouth, hiding hers which I guess also gapes open. “Why don’t you come with me? I’ve got a king-sized bed, and you won’t be comfortable out here.”
“I’ll manage,” I say, gruffly.
“No, you won’t. Come with me.” She stands and holds out her hand. “We’ll keep the door open so if anyone does come, you’ll hear as well from there as here.”
“Mary,” I tell her, a little harshly, “you can’t ask a strange man to share your bed.”
“Huh. You’re not a stranger. A stranger wouldn’t have helped Alicia the way you have. And what’s so darn dangerous about a bed? It’s not as if you’re going to jump my bones, you’ve already said you don’t fuck.”
Christ. What’s she doing to me? When I’d told her that, it had been the truth.
“I haven’t fucked because the girls in the club are too young and I’m not a perv. But you…” Narrowing my eyes, I lewdly view her from her head to her toes, “Your age doesn’t put you out of bounds.”
She puts her hands on her hips and subjects me to the same intense inspection. Unfortunately, my dick likes the scrutiny and my tight jeans do nothing to hide my bulge.
Then she looks up to the ceiling. Raising her fist she shakes it. “Why me, Lord? Why tonight when I’m really not in the mood? Now you choose to present me with a hot guy?”
She thinks I’m hot? I file that away but dismiss it. Of course she’s not up for anything of the sort right now. It hits me, she’s been through far too much in the past twelve hours. From my call to her to come to the compound, from having to deal with the knowledge of what happened to her girl and having to cope with the aftermath. She’s emotionally drained and being pawed at by me wouldn’t help her.
Turning and eyeing the couch one more time, I come to a decision. “I’ll come to bed, but I’ll sleep fully clothed above the covers. If you need me to hold you, babe, I will.”
It’s almost a shy look she now gives me. “Would you think any the worse of me if I said, I’d like that?”
“Of course, I wouldn’t.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Grumbler
It’s true I’m more comfortable lying next to Mary than I would have been on the couch, but that hasn’t translated into making falling asleep any easier.
Once we’d come to bed, her in full pyjamas, lying under the covers, and me fully clothed—the only things I’d removed were my cut and boots—on top, despite our attire we both felt awkward. I’d felt unable to fold her into my arms, and she made no move to come to me.
I lay on my back with my hands behind my head, half of me wondering what I’m doing here and trying to avoid thinking about the woman tossing and turning by my side.
When I hear a sob escape, I can no longer ignore her.
“Hey.” Rolling over, I pull her against me, her back to my front. My thumb moves to her face and wipes away a tear rolling from her eye. “Hush, babe. It’s going to be okay.”
“I want to kill him,” she quietly wails. “I’ve never wanted to hurt anyone in my life, but him? I wish he were dead.”
She’ll be getting her wish if I have my way. “His days are numbered. Can’t have a fucker like that walking around a free man.”
“Do-do you think he’s done that before? Conned a young girl?”
I nod, though in the darkness she can’t see that. “I do. Maybe worse. I’m certain this wasn’t the first time he’d set someone
