Risk (It's Complicated Book 2) (4 page)

“
H
ey
!” she cried.

Justus ignored her and strode all the way in.

All broad shoulders, long legs, hard planes, and angles, he looked ridiculous in this bastion of femininity—like a stallion in Victoria’s Secret. He regarded her gravely, but some of his tension eased after a couple seconds, as if he felt satisfied she wasn’t contemplating homicide or suicide.

Then he smiled. “I kicked his ass for you.”

Angela gaped at him before bursting into wild laughter she had no hope of controlling. Tears were streaming down her face again by the time she reined it in.

“Did you make him cry?”

“Squealed like a newborn pig,” Justus assured her gravely.

“Good.” Her mood abruptly swung back to despair and she ducked her head even though she was done crying. There was no point to wasting any more of her tears on a man who didn’t deserve them.

She sure could use a new tissue, though.

Justus sat onto the loveseat next to her and his hand, clutching a blindingly white handkerchief—wait, a
handkerchief
?—came into her field of vision.

“What’s this?” Hesitating, she looked up, took the fine linen, and wiped her nose with it. Oh, wow. It smelled like him. She remembered his spicy scent very clearly from that long-ago night.

His lips twisted with amusement. “It’s a hankie, you ignorant girl.”

Laughing again, she blotted her eyes. “I really wish you’d stop making me laugh when I was trying to cry here.”

“I really wish you’d stop trying to cry. Especially over that fool.”

She had to smile at that. “He
is
a fool, isn’t he?”

Justus stared her in the face, all signs of humor gone. “Biggest one I’ve ever seen.”

She looked away because sympathy always made her cry harder, and that was the last thing she needed to do right now.

“I wouldn’t take you for the hankie type, Justus.”

“I’m quirky,” he said, grinning.

It occurred to her that he’d interrupted his date to check on her. “You should go. I’m sure your girlfriend—”

He scowled. “There you go assuming again.”

“Yeah, okay,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’m sure the woman you’re having sex with later is wondering what happened to you.”

He was about to say something when the door swung open again. In came another well-dressed woman and a brief burst of music and chatter from the crowded outer hallway.

She stopped dead when she saw Justus. “This is the ladies’ room,” she snapped.

“I know,” he said irritably, not looking away from Angela. “I read the sign on the door when I came in.”

“
Excuse me?
”

Justus seemed to realize he’d been rude. He twisted at the waist and, focusing his gaze on the woman, smiled a dazzling smile that was like the sun hitting a handful of diamonds. “I hope you don’t mind, but we need to talk for a minute.”

The poor woman never had a chance, and melted like a Hershey’s bar left on the dashboard in August. Blushing furiously, she smiled. “Of course.” With apparent difficulty, she peeled her gaze away from Justus and backed out.

“Unbelievable,” Angela said. “You really ought to stop.”

Chuckling, he leaned back against the cushions and studied the ceiling as if he considered it perfectly normal to spend a Friday night in a ladies’ bathroom. “Do you need a ride home?”

“I asked the hostess to call me a cab.”

“I could take you.”

She felt an unexpected surge of fondness for him. “What are you? My knight on a white horse?”

“Just got my armor back from the dry cleaners. Do you want to talk about it?”

“
No
.”

“What was his name?” he persisted. “
Ronald?
Fucking jackass.”

In the past, if she’d ever heard someone make a comment like that about Ronnie, she would have come out swinging. But under the current circumstances, defending Ronnie was a colossal waste of time.

“And here it took me three years to realize he’s a fucking jackass.”

Justus snorted out a laugh.

The door swung open again, and the hostess peered inside. “Your cab is here.”

“Thanks,” Angela said.

She and Justus both stood, and she put her hand on his arm before he could get too far. She meant to thank him for looking out for her tonight, but words, suddenly, seemed inadequate.

So she gave in to impulse, stood on her tiptoes, kissed his smooth, hard cheek, then wrapped her arms around his waist for a hug.

He stiffened.

“Sorry,” she said quickly, starting to pull back as a renewed wave of embarrassment hit her. She always had to go too far—

Without warning, his arms swept her in tight, contracting around her in a powerful hug that was warm, long, and wonderfully reassuring.

Just what she needed.

And then, with the warm brush of his lips against her forehead, he turned her loose and opened the door. His expression was somber but otherwise unreadable, and he didn’t look at her as she started to walk through.

She paused on the threshold. “Thanks. I hope your dinner isn’t too cold.”

His gaze flicked back to her, and she was startled to see its turbulence. He didn’t say anything.

“Well.” She took another step. “Good night.”

“
Angela
.”

“Hmm?” She glanced back over her shoulder.

Long pause.

“It’s...good to see you,” he said gruffly. “Really good to see you.”

* * *

“
Y
ou’re telling
me Ronnie dumped you over drinks?” Carolyn asked.

Angela balanced the phone against her shoulder, squinted against the glaring morning sun streaming through the kitchen window, and rubbed her tired, gritty eyes. Exhausted didn’t seem like a big enough word to describe how she felt. When the cab dropped her off at her apartment last night, she’d cried bitter, angry tears for so long she half expected she’d need to go to the hospital for a hydrating saline drip. Sleep was out of the question, so she didn’t even bother. Instead, knowing nothing cleared her head like a little cleaning and the orange scent of her favorite disinfectants, she’d set to work.

She’d cleaned her two bathrooms and scrubbed the grout. Then she’d changed the linens on the bed, dusted the living room from top to bottom, shaken the rugs over the edge of the balcony, and lined her kitchen drawers with the blue-and-yellow-striped shelf paper she’d bought the other day. Only the lateness of the hour had stopped her from also vacuuming, but she didn’t think her neighbors would appreciate the racket at two in the morning. Then she’d baked some fresh sourdough from the starter she kept in the fridge and eaten half the loaf while it was still warm.

Finally, having worn herself out a little, she’d fallen into her black wrought-iron four-poster bed—the bed where she would never again make love to Ronnie—burrowed under her crisp white hotel sheets, and lain awake until five. Then she’d gotten up, run her four miles on the treadmill in the second bedroom that served as both office and exercise room, and done two hours of paperwork so she wouldn’t have to go into the office today.

Finally, at eight, she’d called Carolyn, knowing she’d be up with Maya, her three-year-old.

“Technically, it was over salad,” Angela told her. She stopped rubbing her lids, focused on the granite countertop, sprayed it liberally with cleaner, and began to wipe even though it was already spotless. “He said he needed time, didn’t want to get married now, wanted to work on his career, blah, blah, blah.”

Carolyn murmured sympathetically. “So do you think it’ll all work out, or...”

“I don’t think so. I don’t know.” Angela stopped the busywork. For the first time she could remember, cleaning—her favorite mindless, repetitive task—did nothing to settle her nerves. She was, in fact, getting more and more agitated. Throwing the sponge in the soapy dishwater, she leaned against the counter. “I’m so angry right now. I just don’t know what happened.”

“Well...” Carolyn said.

That didn’t sound good. At all.

“Well,
what
?”

“I don’t think he wants to ever marry you, sweetie,” Carolyn said in a rush. “V.J. and I have talked about it for years—”

“
Years
? Are you kidding me right now?”

“—and we just don’t think it would take him this long to propose if he was really serious about you. For God’s sake, you’re both in your mid-thirties, so what could he be waiting for? V.J. says if Ronnie was serious he wouldn’t have let so much grass grow under his feet.”

A fresh batch of furious emotion welled in Angela’s throat. She choked it back, picked up her broom, and jabbed at a spider web laced between the arms of the brass chandelier over the kitchen table.

This was just
great
. Everyone, including Ronnie, had known for years that Ronnie would never marry her.

She was the only dumbass that’d been in the dark.

“Well, why didn’t you ever say anything?” she barked. “This whole time I’ve been—”

“Put it down, honey,” Carolyn said, her voice now muffled. “Put it down.”

Angela knew what that muffled phone voice meant and resisted the urge to growl in frustration. The little monster Carolyn liked to call her daughter had entered the room and the adult part of this conversation was, therefore, now over.

“Would you like to say hello to Aunt Angela?” Carolyn asked, now speaking in that annoying squeal—
Hiii-iii! How aaaaare youuuuuu!
—suitable only for small children and pets. “Come here, sweetie.”

No! No she does
not
need to say hello
, Angela thought frantically. Why did parents always think it was cute to put their little kids on the phone? Like toddlers were witty conversationalists. Please. Why didn’t love-blind parents ever realize that the rest of the world wasn’t as wild about their children as they were?

And why couldn’t she have the briefest conversation with her sister without Maya interrupting?

“Don’t put her on the phone, Carolyn. I really don’t have time for this now, and—oh, hello, Maya.”

This was just freaking
great
.

“Hi, Aunt Ang-la,” Maya said in her high-pitched singsong.

A long silence, punctuated by Maya’s heavy breathing, followed.

Angela wiped a fingerprint off the counter and impatiently cast around for something to say. “So...how is school?”

“Good.”

“Wonderful.” Her obligation to speak to the child now fully discharged, it was time to move on to more important matters. “Put your mom back on the phone, please. And don’t hang up on me this time, okay?”

Carolyn’s irritated, sarcastic voice came back on the line. “Hoo-boy, Angela. Such enthusiasm. I’m going to nominate you for the aunt of the year award. Maya, you go run and play. Bye.”

Angela had picked up the broom and started sweeping the floor, but now she stiffened in surprise. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Can you at least try to be nice to her, Angela?” Carolyn’s voice rose. “Maybe pretend—just for once—like you have some interest in my child? You’re the only aunt Maya has! You and she are the only family
I
have! Do you have any idea how much it would mean to me if my sister actually liked my daughter? Can’t you do it for me?”

Furious, Angela threw the broom to the tiled floor, where it clattered. “Are you kidding me? Maya couldn’t ask for a better aunt! I’ve never missed a birthday or Christmas, and let me remind you that the American Girl doll I got her last year was
not
cheap! And what about the—”

“I’m not talking about spending money on her!” Carolyn shouted. “I’m talking about spending time with her, getting to know her, and—”

“I cannot deal with this right now!” As far as Angela was concerned, this whole stupid conversation had strayed way too far afield from the topic at hand, which was her ruined love life. In the background she heard muffled noises and Carolyn murmuring to Maya again, but she ignored them. “My life has been ripped to shreds and you want to talk about your daughter?” she continued. “I don’t have time for that! I need to know why you let me spend
three years
—”

“When are you going to stop being so selfish? When are you going to wake up and realize it’s not all about
you
and
your
career and
your
romance? What will it take for you to stop being so self-centered?”

Outrage rendered Angela speechless for a couple of beats while she pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it, but she recovered quickly. “Well, forgive me for wanting to talk about what’s going on in my life! Forgive me for being a little upset about being dumped! How could I be such a bitch?”

A long silence followed until finally Angela wondered if Carolyn had hung up on her.

“Hello?” she snarled. “
Hello?
”

“What did you say, Angela?” Carolyn sounded harried. “I didn’t hear you. Maya, don’t touch that. I said don’t touch it.”

Disgusted, Angela jerked open the cabinet under the sink, fished the window cleaner out, sprayed some on a fresh cloth, and attacked the window. Typical. This was the way it always went with Carolyn and her: they talked, one or the other got angry, they shouted invectives at each other, and then they moved on. If Carolyn’s attack just now was a little more personal than usual, or hit a little closer to home, Angela did not particularly want to explore the reasons why. Some dogs were best left quietly asleep.