Colorado 03 Lady Luck (13 page)

“Sure,” I whispered.

“I played, yeah. Not often but I did it. My
Dad drank his paycheck so growin’ up, wasn’t used to havin’ a lot
but found I’m a man who likes nice shit. You like it; you find a
way to get it. I discovered I got talent at a table, I found the
way.”

Okay, suffice it to say, this I
didn’t
like. Ronnie liked nice shit
too and he found a way to get it. And I was seeing I should have
noticed this about Ty earlier. Firstly, he wore jeans and tees well
but he wasn’t a stranger to nice suits and expensive cufflinks.
Secondly, that morning when I saw his shades, I knew he didn’t pick
them off a tall, upright, plastic rack displaying a hundred other
pairs of five dollar sunglasses. They cost some cake and he wore
them with jeans, a tee and boots like he was used to wearing two
hundred and fifty dollar sunglasses. Thirdly, practically the first
thing he did when he hit Vegas after getting released from prison
was go shopping and drop tens of thousands of dollars. The bags on
the desk he still hadn’t emptied weren’t just bling and
shades.

Therefore, I remarked, “I noticed you don’t
have an aversion to shopping.”

“Also don’t got an aversion to work or
gettin’ my hands dirty,” he returned.

“What?”

“I like nice shit but I don’t mind workin’
for it and as much as I like it, not gonna fuck myself in order to
get it.”

“So…” I hesitated then went for it, “you
playing poker didn’t have anything to do with you being wrongly
imprisoned?”

His eyes held mine.

Then he said quietly, “Didn’t say that.”

There it was. Shit.

“That’s why you won’t play anymore after
tonight,” I whispered, disappointed that he’d semi-lied.

“No,” he replied. “The men who marked me to
go down needed a fall guy. I took money from one at a table; he got
pissed about it so I got his attention and became his fall
guy.”

“So you playing poker had something to do
with you being wrongly imprisoned,” I stated.

“No,” he repeated. “I just happened to be at
the wrong place at the wrong time getting the wrong kind of
attention. Someone else won that night, it woulda been him. I
accidentally brushed him as I walked by him buyin’ a beer at a bar,
he didn’t take kindly to that, that woulda bought me the same shit.
They didn’t care who they targeted they just needed someone to
target. It didn’t have to do with poker. It had to do with them
needin’ a fall guy. I got in their sights, that’s who I
became.”

At his explanation, the fact he gave it to
me and the fact that it proved he hadn’t lied earlier, I felt my
breathing steady and hadn’t realized it had become slightly
labored.

Then I went for it again. “How did that
happen, um… exactly?”

He shook his head. “Done givin’. Now I
take.”

Well, at least I got something.

He continued, “You asked, you got. Now I
ask.”

“Okay,” I agreed.

“Told me you don’t got a Mom or a Dad. No
grandparents. You got any people?”

I shook my head.

“None?” he pushed.

I kept shaking my head but affirmed,
“None.”

“How can you have no people?”

“I do. Ronnie’s family.”

“They aren’t your people.”

“Yes, Ty, they are.”

He held my eyes.

Then he asked, “They raise you?”

“Kind of.”

“Not an answer, Lexie.”

I blew out a sigh.

Then I pulled my knees to my belly, wrapped
my arm around them and told him my story.

Or parts of it.

“
My Mom and Dad died when I was young. Long
story. My Dad’s parents died when he was sixteen. Car crash. My
Gran died when I was six and Granddad when I was thirteen. My Dad
had a sister but by the time Granddad died, well… let’s just say, I
was a handful and she didn’t want any part of that so she didn’t
take any part of it. Obviously, because of that, although she lives
in Dallas, I don’t see her and when I say that, I mean
ever
. Life was
shit for me, Granddad wasn’t all that great, I was thirteen, acting
out and just needed someone to give a shit. She didn’t. I got put
into a home for girls then was farmed out into foster care. Foster
care took me to a new school, I met Bessie, Ronnie’s sister, we
became BFFs something, by the way, we still are. They lived in what
could be considered one step up from the Projects and that was a
small step but, trust me, no matter how fucked up that was, their
home was better than foster care. So I spent a lot of time there.
My foster carers still got paid so they didn’t give a shit where I
spent my time and ate my meals. Ronnie’s Dad took off, whereabouts
still unknown so he grew up watching his Mom struggle to put food
on the table and spending most of his time avoiding local boys who
were trying to recruit him into a gang. He was also the man of the
family. He took that seriously but, obviously, didn’t do it smart.
As far as he was concerned, there were two ways to take care of his
women. One, the NBA. Two, what he ended up doing. Problem with that
was, Ella wanted not one thing to do with money earned the way he
earned it. This caused dissension. I was the link that kept this
dissension from going into meltdown. Ella never took any of
Ronnie’s money but at least I managed to keep him in the family
fold. And I was definitely part of the family fold and would have
been even if I ended things with Ronnie. We broke it off, I would
have got his family, not him and when he died none of that changed
so, seeing as that’s the way and the fact that they were the only
real family I knew, they’re my people.”

When I quit talking, Ty just stared at me
and said not a word.

So I asked, “Are we done with give and
take?”

“Yeah,” he answered but his eyes didn’t move
back to the TV and the way he was staring at me, as normal,
impassive but yet I still felt the intensity of his stare, my eyes
didn’t move either.

This also made me prompt, “What?”

“I don’t get it,” he replied.

I felt my brows draw together and I
repeated, “What?”

He looked to the TV muttering,
“Nothin’.”

“Ty,” I called and he didn’t look at me but
still I repeated, “What?” He continued not to look at me so I
asked, “What don’t you get?”

Then his eyes sliced to me and he proceeded
without hesitation to rock my world.

“You’re part-goof all class. Never walked in
a room, any room, with a woman on my arm, any woman, who’s got your
looks, your style, the kinda beauty you got and the light that
shines from you. So I don’t get it. I don’t get how a woman leads a
life full of shit and comes out of it bein’ part-goof and all
class. That shit’s impossible but there you fuckin’ are. Part-goof,
all class.”

I felt my breath coming fast but managed to
whisper, “I’m not part-goof.”

“You’re right. I was bein’ nice. You’re a
total goof.”

“Am not.”

“Babe, you call me ‘hubby’,” he pointed out
but my breath came faster because he called me “babe” again.

“
You
are
my
hubby.”

“No one says hubby,” he told me.

“I do,” I told him.

“All right, I’ll rephrase. No one but a goof
says hubby.”

“Is that written in stone somewhere?”

“It should be.”

“So, you don’t like it.”

At that, his body twisted minutely in my
direction, his chin dipped down a half a centimeter, his eyes
locked with mine and I quit breathing.

And his voice was a very low rumble when he
stated, “I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

“Okay,” I breathed.

“I like it.” He kept rumbling.

“Okay,” I repeated breathily.

“You’re still a fuckin’ goof.”

I kept silent.

“And I like that too,” he finished,
readjusted microscopically and his eyes slid to the TV.

I decided my best course of action at that
juncture was to point my eyes at the TV too so I did. Then I
struggled to regain control of my breathing. I managed this feat.
Then I wondered again what he was wearing under the sheet. Then I
struggled to quit wondering and also managed that but barely. Then
I allowed the fact that he liked me calling him “hubby” and that I
was a goof (he thought) to penetrate. Then I tried to stop myself
from allowing the fact that I liked that he liked those things and
I also liked all the other things he said to penetrate.

I failed at that.

Then I pulled the covers up high on my
shoulder because the room was fucking freezing and I managed to
fall asleep in a bed with Ty Walker.

I woke up and he was gone. This time, he
left a note on his pillow that said,

L

Gym.

T

I studied it with sleepy eyes and for some
bizarre reason, memorized his slashes. And that was what his
handwriting was. Dark, heavily pressed slashes. Even where there
should be curves there were slashes.

Then I got up, got ready to hit the pool,
wrote him a note and then for some other bizarre reason, I folded
and tucked his one word note into a pocket in my wallet.

Then I went to the pool and ordered a latte
from a passing waiter hoping Ty would show eventually so we could
have breakfast together. And I didn’t allow myself to think about
this hope or the fact that my eyes moved to the doors to the pool
on far more than a rare occasion hoping I’d spy him striding out of
them. In fact, not lying in bed with him after he won half a
million dollars and told me I was a goof and beautiful, I was able
to disallow myself from doing a lot of things.

Though one of those things wasn’t stopping
my eyes from wandering hopefully to the door time and again.

Shit.

It hit me I was hot, as in very hot and that
was something I didn’t expect I’d be after I woke up with a frozen
nose in the deep freeze that was our room. It also hit me that the
morning was wearing on, Ty was not showing and I was hungry.

It was time to find my husband.

But I’d do that after a cool down.

I set my eReader aside, took off my shades
and tossed them aside too, got up and moved to the edge of the
pool. I waited for my opening in the busy pool, bent my legs and
dove in.

The cool waters hit me like a slap and felt
great. I loved the water, loved swimming. Ronnie had promised me a
beach house but obviously never delivered on that promise. In fact,
until I took a significant detour the day before showing up to pick
up Ty, I’d never been to a beach. But I built the time in to hit La
Jolla. I didn’t have a lot of time but I built it in, parked the
car and took an hour long walk on the beach before climbing into my
car, driving to the town outside the prison and checking into a
motel to spend the night before I had to pick up Ty. And even
though that beach was packed, it was the most peaceful hour I’d had
in my entire life. It wasn’t bliss, it wasn’t even happiness. It
was quiet contentment, warm sun, soft sand, the sound of the waves
and the beauty of a horizon filled with blue.

Now that I had my life back, I was going to
carve in a vacation at the beach. Maybe, after Ty’s business was
done and I was free, I’d go to the beach.

Maybe I’d try to talk him into going with
me.

Shit.

Pushing this thought aside, my stomach told
me it needed food and I struck out to the ladder at the side of the
pool. I pulled myself out and the sun glinted, sending a bright
flicker that caught my attention and I looked to my left hand and
saw my wedding rings.

Then I felt my mouth curve into a smile.

When I realized my mouth had curved into a
smile at the mere sight of my wedding rings, it turned down into a
frown.

Shit.

I pushed that thought aside too when my feet
hit deck, my eyes went to my lounge chair and it took a lot for me
to keep moving to it when I saw the man stretched out in the one
next to mine.

Navarro. Navarro wearing nice slacks, one of
those shiny, expensive polo necked shirts and shades that cost more
than Ty’s. Shades, incidentally, that were pointed at me and they
were pointed at me in a way that I knew they’d been set in my
direction for awhile.

I was dripping wet and not feeling good
about him being there as I moved to the opposite side of my lounge
from him, quickly grabbed my towel and held it full-length to the
front of me, eyes on him, hands in the towel pressing it against
the lower half of my face.

His shades were still on me.

I dropped my hands to my neck and pressed my
bent arms against the towel into my body.

“Hey,” I said.

He unfolded from the chair and stood
opposite me.

“Hello, Lexie.”

I pressed my lips together then asked,
“Something I can do for you?”

“Actually, yes.”

I waited even though I didn’t want to. I
also wondered where the fuck my husband was. How long was he going
to work out? He had a great body but hell, I’d been out here at
least an hour and he was gone before I woke up.

“And that would be?” I prompted when he said
nothing more.

“Would you mind, perhaps, coming with me so
we can find someplace to talk in private or, maybe, meeting me
somewhere later?”

I felt my back go straight because I didn’t
expect this and also because I didn’t like it.

“Yes, I would mind,” I answered then I
asked, “Does this have to do with Ty?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I have an offer to make to you.”

I didn’t like this either and felt my eyes
narrow. “And this doesn’t have to do with Ty?”

“No. It has to do with you.”

Me? How could it have to do with me?

“Um… dude, I don’t know you,” I pointed
out.

“I’d like to change that.”

Oh.
That
was how it had to do with me.