Wrong then Right (A Love Happens Novel Book 2) (35 page)

Popping her head into a lively conference room, she saw four men spread out around a large table, vaguely recognizable from the wedding. Their attention was centered on the screens of various phones, tablets, and laptops, and she knew the instant they spotted her. The room went dead silent as four pairs of eyes focused straight on her, their gazes mixed with surprise and speculation.

Then, in some kind of freaky, testosterone fueled coincidence, they all smiled at her in unison. And without her consent, she promptly commenced ovulation.

“Hello,” the dark haired one said, from his spot at the head of the table, masking his curiosity with politeness. “I’m sorry nobody greeted you in the lobby. Caroline is out for the afternoon.” Sam. And he was still hot. He also wore a shiny platinum band on his ring finger.

She opened her mouth, but the shaggy blonde standing closest to the door stepped toward her, holding out his hand. His baby blue’s twinkled as he flashed a set of dreamy dimples. “Grady Foster, ma’am. How can I help you today?”

“I’m looking for Ash.” She shook his warm hand, the concentrated attention of all four men still on her when she heard a door open behind her.

Spontaneous ovulation aside, Hope could do without the company of men for awhile, but she needed to touch base with her brother before she left town or chances were, he’d have the FBI on her tail before she hit the Colorado state line.

“Hope.” Her brother’s concerned voice carried and she turned to see him standing in the doorway of an executive office. “Everything okay?”

No. Everything wasn’t okay. It was the opposite of okay.

“Peachy,” she croaked, her pink painted nails digging into her palms as surprise emotion bubbled over. “I just wanted to tell you... That I’ve...” Her breath caught on a sudden hiccup and tears clogged her throat, making speech difficult. “I’ve decided to leave...”

Maybe it was seeing Ash in his element that did it. Maybe it was his familiar eyes. Maybe it was because he was the only man in her life walking toward her, instead of running away. But the sight of him, her big brother and self-appointed protector, broke her.

“Leave for Denver early and—” Three sobs into the ugly cry, her voice broke, mortifying tears rolling down her cheeks. “And I hate men,” she wailed, covering her face. Good God, she’d turned into a teenage girl.

“I knew it! That goddamn motherfucker, I’m gonna kill him,” Ash said, lighting the air blue with a filthy string of curses. “I’m gonna gut him like a deer.”

Cupping her shoulders, he pulled her into his office, sitting her in a chair before he slammed the door shut on four, panic stricken faces. Dropping a box of tissues in front of her, he sat down behind the desk and waited impatiently while she pulled herself together. He was doing his level best to hide his discomfort, but even through her blurred vision, she could see him tugging on his shirt collar and looking around the small office. Probably seeking an escape route.

“I’m assuming this has to do with your roommate?”

Nodding, she dabbed her eyes. “Former roommate,” she sneered, sniffling. “Current asshole. He asked me to leave. And by asked, I actually mean told.”

He bit back a grin. “And it’s safe to say you didn’t want to go?”

“Yeah, that’s safe to say.” She let out a watery laugh and inhaled deeply, releasing a long breath. “I’m sorry about all the crying, that just came out of nowhere,’’ she said, gesturing toward the hallway behind her. “Sort of like a train wreck. I thought I was okay.”

She really did, considering only a few hours had passed since Beck gave her the boot. No way was she hanging around the Lark Street house for the few days he was out of town. If he wanted her gone, she’d be gone. Greener pastures awaited. Donna needed the house to be vacant for showings anyway, and without Beck’s presence, the place just wasn’t the same. Those random stretches of time when he’d been out of town had proven that the house held little appeal without the sound of him bouncing a racquetball against the wall in the wee hours of the morning. Packing had taken exactly fifteen minutes and it was a blissfully mind numbing quarter hour.

But now that the morning’s events had sunk in, Hope realized she might be taking this harder than expected. The finality of his actions felt like a death.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ash said, brushing off the apology. “We have women stand in the hallway and burst into tears all the time. Happens everyday.” He visibly relaxed when she smiled. “Does he have any teeth left?”

“Only because I’m a lover not a fighter. You’re lucky, you got all the violent tendencies. I just got the naive stupidity.”

“You’re not stupid, Hope.” She noticed he didn’t deny the naive part. “And while I’m not convinced Beck is the man for you, give him some time. See if he’ll come around. There’s been some changes in him the last few months. For the better.”

Smiling sadly, she looked down, her fingers shredding the ends of the tissue. “Well, if that’s true, then you might want to tell him, because he’s clueless. And hard headed and emotionally unavailable. And did I already say clueless?”

“The best thing for you right now is school. That’s where your focus should be. The best thing for Beck right now is time. A handful of deployments in seven years isn’t easy to leave behind. It’s something you can’t even imagine, much less understand.” He leaned back in his chair, his casual body language belying his words. “He wasn’t considered a person during those years, but more an extremely valuable tool. His skills and durability were put ahead of his physical and mental well being. The needs of the Navy came first and he met them. Now he needs his own time to sort through it. And I don’t mean a few months, Hope, it could him take years.” Shrugging, he added, “Maybe never.”

She crumpled the tissue in a ball, nodding as he spelled it out. “So, he’s damaged goods?”

“No,” Ash said, shaking his head. “None of us are damaged. We just look at life—and death,” he emphasized, “a hell of a lot differently than most. Seeing humanity at its worst will do that to you. Especially if you’ve been a willing participant.” Pausing, he softened his voice. “Move on, Hope. Don’t wait for something that might never be.”

He was right. Not that Asher Coleson was ever wrong, but in this case, he was dead right.

And she was almost late for work. “Tonight’s my last shift at Club Kitten. I’m heading for Denver tomorrow. Classes don’t start for three more weeks, but I want the extra time to learn my way around the city.” As if it was her choice to go early and not Beck’s.

“Club Kitten?” Ash’s brows lifted and he leaned forward in the chair. “You’re stripping? Holy fuck, you’re not doing drugs, are you? Never take ecstasy, Hope—”

“No, I’m not stripping!” she cut in, before he lost his mind. Except for one night, which he didn’t need to know about. “And I’m not taking ecstasy. I’m a waitress.” He didn’t need to know about the cockteasing part, either, but she felt offended on Bridget’s behalf. “Cripes, Ash, what era are you living in? Even if I was, it doesn’t mean I’m drugged out and hooking on the side, or whatever other stripper stereotype you’re thinking right now. I’ve managed to make a decent chunk of money and I’m using it to bring substance and culture to my life.”

“Jesus, Hope, give me a little credit, will ya?” But she could read the relief on his face.

Leaning back again, his lips quirked. “Substance and culture to your life? Been practicing that speech for awhile?”

She grinned, a knock on the door interrupting her response.

“Hey, I hate to break up the Beck bashing,” Sam said, holding up his cell phone as he walked in, “but the eagle is landing in T minus ten minutes. That means he’s on his way here.”

“And on that note, I’m out,” she said. “I never want to hear that name again.” Hope waved at them as she headed for the door, stopping suddenly. “Hey Ash, do you know a woman named Donna Decker? Because I’m pretty sure she’s in love with you. Although she did say she’s open to, and I’m quoting,” she said, making exaggerated quotation marks with her fingers, “a sex only type thing.” Her face scrunched up. “Eww. I’m grossed out just saying it.”

She smiled when Ash’s face drained of color and he looked to Sam for help. “Shit! What am I gonna do about this? Oh, holy fuck.”

Sam could only shake his head. She watched him literally do nothing but shake his head for a solid five seconds, until he finally said, “I don’t know, man.”

For two incredibly accomplished men, with numerous years of medal-inspiring military service between them, they looked utterly perplexed.

“I do,” Hope said, unable to filter herself. “I think it starts with you and Donna sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g.” Laughing out loud at the resulting gagging sounds, she laid a hand on her chest, barely containing herself.

Sam cupped his forehead. “Jesus God, that would put me in the ground.”

“What?” Ash asked, insulted. “Why would you say that? I’m not exactly a loser. I have a job and a checking account. She’d be lucky to have me!” Smirking, he held out his hands. “I’m the pinnacle of a good catch. I’m her Mount Everest.”

“Is that right?” Sam countered. “Then tell me how you’re feeling about Beck, right now? Because I’m guessing he’s tops on your shit list.”

Good Lord, now that the male ego was involved, it was definitely time for her to go and after a quick good-bye to Ash, the debate between him and Sam raged on as she walked out the thick glass doors. When she made it out of the building and into her car before a black Mustang roared in, she considered herself lucky.

She was Beck’s Mount Everest, damn it, and she wanted to rub it in his gorgeous face. But she couldn’t. He’d kicked her aside like she was nothing more than an ant hill.

“See? Boobs really do make you feel better. And they taste good in your mouth, too.” Bridget threw her head back in lively laughter, wrapping an arm around Hope’s shoulder and pulling her close. “Now we know what all the hype is about.”

The walked side by side toward their cars, a full moon shining like a spotlight over the nearly deserted parking lot. It was the end of their shift—her last shift—and her steps were heavy. She’d come to love this place and the odd mix of people working here.

“I can’t lie to you, Bridge, boobs in the form of cake are delicious,” Hope agreed. But they hadn’t done much to make her feel better. That would take considerably more than a huge set of knockers covered in cream cheese frosting.

“Hey, there’s a cute guy holding up the side of your car,” Bridget said, nodding toward her orange Toyota.

Looking that direction, she saw him, and her steps slowed in surprise.

“Don’t worry, I’ll wait for you,” Bridget called out breezily, walking toward her own car. “If I doze off, just honk your horn real loud.”

Camping out on Bridget’s couch for the night, Hope planned to get about ten hours of uninterrupted sleep before filling up her gas tank and heading east. By tomorrow afternoon, San Diego would be nothing but a dot in her rearview mirror.

Ignoring the man leaning casually against the car, she unlocked the passenger door and whipped it open. Tossing her canvas bag on the seat with enough force to break anything fragile inside, including her brand new eye liner pencil, she slammed the door shut and walked around to the driver’s side.

He didn’t budge, blocking her from making a dramatic exit. “If I say I’m sorry, will you love me again?”

Hands on her hips, she gave him her best glare. “Nope. And those pants are hideous.”

“You fight dirty,” Val chided, looking down at himself. He wore an expensive pair of glazed cotton skinny jeans the exact shade of lime jello. And damn it, he was pulling it off. “What if I go to confession and say a dozen Hail Mary’s?”

“Do you even know the words to Hail Mary?”

“I know the words to Google it,” he said logically, sliding to the side when she elbowed him to open her car door. Rubbing his ribs, he winced. “Ow. That’s gonna leave a mark. You know I bruise like a banana.”

“I don’t have time for this, Val. Bridget’s waiting for me.” She started the car, not ready to deal with his drama. “Just tell me this, though. Why’d you do it?”

“I’ve been replaced by a beauty queen with an ass you could bounce a quarter off of.” He glanced Bridget’s way and for the first time, Hope realized he was jealous. Her heart pinched and she almost caved. Almost.

Kicking the crumbling blacktop with his suede wingtips, he sighed. “My mom has medical bills up the wazoo. Insurance only pays for half of the facility. He paid them, Hope. All of them and more. All I had to do was talk you into going back home. Talk didn’t work, so I tried to scare you a little.” Looking like he might cry, his bony shoulders shook. “I’m sorry, Ho-ho. It was all for show.”

“I wasn’t scared, Val.” Her voice wobbled. “I was freaking terrified. Do you know what that feels like?”

“Uh, yeah...” he said, agreeing dramatically. “Your boyfriend went all Terminator on my ass. He barged through the front door like a one man swat team and scared the snot right out of me. My roommates flushed a week’s worth of weed because they thought he was the cops. And a few, pretty gnarly narcotics that I could use right now.” Rubbing his ribcage, he added, “Oh, that reminds me. I’m thinking of taking steroids. You know, the injection kind. I’m gonna get all beefed up.” He flexed a scrawny bicep. “Start hitting the gym every day.”

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore.” She wasn’t sure he’d ever been to begin with. “And you do know they stick a two inch needle into your ass, right? I hope your balls shrink to the size of raisins.”

He looked horrified and proud at the same time. “Now, there’s the Ho-ho I know and love. Does that mean you forgive me?”

“No. It means, don’t call me, I’ll call you.” Honking even though Bridget was watching the whole scene unfold like she was at a drive-in movie, Hope followed her out of the parking lot on spinning tires.

She wasn’t kidding about hating men. In fact, the whole gender could be summed up to one major con—they’re dicks. And one major pro—their dicks. If a girl wanted the second, then sooner or later, she better be prepared to deal with the first.