“How does Ford know what to do?”
I don’t care how pussy-wetting that man is; Ford’s a dick.
Hang on; dicks wet my pussy, so… Ford’s a turd. He hasn’t returned since he mocked me with innuendo like I was a dumb little game he won.
“He was a Ranger too. That’s how we met. He served under my mom, heard about my dad, and reached out to me during my senior year in high school.” A look coasts across his eyes. “Ford means a lot to me.”
I assume, “Like a dad?”
“No, not a dad.” He drops his eyes and pauses, tapping the Apple watch on his wrist. “Shit, I gotta get that parlor done today.” Peering up at me, concern bends his eyes. “Is Mr. Evans gonna be home? Is it okay if I prep his office next?”
“Nothing is ever okay with Mr. Evans, so you might as well get it over with.” I hold his stare. “And be careful… you’re being watched in some places.”
Nodding, he slowly rises and collects our trash before putting it in the bag. Silently, we walk back inside, and he gets to work while I suddenly feel a new unease.
Only one person lately gives me hope, so I step back outside to call her.
“Hey,” Sergeant Cade Bryant answers, and I’m surprised it’s so quickly.
“Hey, it’s Stacey,”—I roll my eyes at why I say this out of habit— “Gentry’s wife. You gave me your number the other day at the salon.”
“Yeah, I remember,” she replies. “How are you?”
How? Am? I?
Trapped in a marriage with an abusive man who threatens my dad’s healthcare. Tempted, because of it, to squirt a gallon of Visine in his Arnold Palmer iced teas and poison him to death. Apathetic, because I know he fucks people on the side. And furious because I’m fucked too, but not in a good way. Other than that….
“I’m peachy. How about you? Got big Christmas plans?”
Cade’s quiet before her voice softens. “You don’t have to pretend with me. I got your back. I promise.”
What the hell? Ms. Carver? Luke? And now Cade? Why are random people being so kind to me all of a sudden?
“Thank you,” I find myself repeating it today. “I, uh, just wanted to make sure that you and Mr. Van de May, I mean, you and Silas, received your invitations to our New Year’s Eve Party.”
“Yep, we’ll be there.”
“Do you think Silas will bring his parents? I sent them an invitation, too. It’d mean so much to me to have them all here.”
Cade’s pause is long. I fear I’m stepping on toes as she replies, “If I tell you it’s complicated, will that explain it without me sounding like a bitch because I really want to help you if I can.”
Cade’s that kind of woman—she will go to the mat for you, I know it.
“Yeah, I understand complicated.” I pause too. “You okay? You know, I’m not a badass like you. I can’t kill with my bare hands, but don’t let my blonde hair fool ya—my cornbread’s done in the middle. I’m smarter than I look and want to help you too.”
I make her laugh; at least I can do that.
“Thanks,” she says. “But I can’t get Silas’s parents to your party; I’m sorry. There’s just a lot going on right now.”
“You mean with Redix?”
It was obvious when I met Cade Bryant and Redix Dean; they’re soulmates. That’s a rare connection like a bright comet across the sky; you can’t forget what you witness.
Then I saw Cade with Silas Van de May this year, and it’s like Cade’s an open wound now, and only Silas can heal her.
“Yeah,” she murmurs, “with Redix too.”
“Girl, do you need me to give Redix Dean a ‘Come to Jesus’ meeting about how fucking amazing you are? Or is it Silas Van de May I need to school? ‘Cuz I’d take a ruler to either of their asses for you. Gladly.”
When I’m talking to another woman and able just to be myself, all my sass comes out. I miss this part of me. I miss so much about me, and Cade makes me feel like I can reach down and pick myself back up.
She laughs again. “I don’t think you, a ruler, or Jesus can fix the mess I got myself into. I’m the only one who can. But there is something you can do for me.”
“Name it.”
“Be careful. I can’t say more, but I know you’re smart as hell… and you need to be.” Her next pause is heavy. “Trust me.”
I stare at the clear December sky, and chills shake my bones. Not at the temperature. At her warning. Cade’s a cop telling me something I’ve started to suspect.
I’m not just married to an evil, abusive asshole senator.
I’m married to a criminal.
CHAPTER SIX
I Want To by Rosenfeld
Damn, I hated leaving Stacey alone yesterday in this giant sprawling house.
Sure, folks can say she’s got rich, beauty queen problems, but there’s more going on. And there’s more to her, I can tell.
Yeah, she’s hot enough to melt an ice cream truck. Like it’s hard seeing past her pouty lips and her turned-up nose; not like she’s a bitch. She’s sexy. She’s sweet. And her pretty blue eyes are like a pool you want to dive into on a hot summer’s day. And that hair that swishes past her shoulders? I want to bury my nose in it. And yes, her tits distract me, and her ass is a magnet to my dick. Okay, there’s nothing about that woman that isn’t perfect.
But what draws me to her is her obvious misery underneath it all. It’s so heartbreakingly ironic.
From what Mateo said about her when she was young, girls who look like Stacey are supposed to be the mean ones who ruin you with their gossip.
But she wasn’t mean.
She was one of the rare people kind to Mateo, who wasn’t cruel to him because of his brown skin or Spanish name. It seemed she really liked him. She protected him.
And I see how nice she is, even with the delivery woman, giving her a muffin and chatting like Stacey’s desperate for someone to talk to.
It’s so sweet; it’s fucking sad.
So I try talking with Stacey when I can, but I have to keep working since I’m on this job alone now.
No.
I have to be careful.
You’d think a woman who looks like her would be so confident it’s obnoxious.
The opposite is true.
The way Stacey talks about herself, she’s like a puppy in a corner, cringing when you go to pet it because someone else is abusing it.
Even when I’m not here, I can’t stop thinking about her. Shit, I almost used gloss paint on the walls this morning, noticing how little in this house even looks like it belongs to her.
It’s like she’s one of his belongings too.
I’ve never felt something like this for a woman. Curious. Protective. Connected. Horny as a motherfucking dog. I try reasoning it away; it’s because she looks like that, dumbass.
But I’m young, not dumb.
I’m more than hot for her.
I know more than how I want to take her up against a wall and rip her yoga pants open to fuck the hell out of that pussy, teasing me through their outline; I want to be inside more than her sex.