Slow & Steady, page 4
part #2 of Alphas Undone Series
He shrugged. “I just had a strange feeling that something had happened.”
I raised both eyebrows. I knew Greyson lived in the nice part of town, on the other side of the lake, a good twenty-minute drive. “So you drove up here?”
He nodded. “I figured you’d be getting off work. I knew the club closed at one.”
The clock on my dash told me it was closer to two now, and getting up with Maple at six wasn’t going to be fun. But I couldn’t deny his strange sixth sense about me was proving to be spot on. “I was just about to head home.”
“Was I right ... did something happen tonight?” he asked.
I gave a careful nod. “It’s over now. Honestly, I’m fine.”
“You’ve got to give me more than that, sweetheart.” His tone left little room for negotiation.
“In this business there are some real creeps. I’m sure it was harmless. Just some misplaced affection.”
Greyson’s dark eyes stayed locked on mine for a few moments longer and I wondered if he was going to press me for the full story. Then he took a deep breath. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I nodded. “I just want to get home.”
He dropped his hands and took a step back. “Okay, then. Goodnight.”
“Night.” Surprised that he wasn’t going to argue with me like he had the other night, I cranked the engine and pulled out.
The shadowy hulk of his black SUV followed me out of the lot a minute later. I expected to see him turn at the corner towards the highway on-ramp. Instead, his headlights stayed in my rear-view mirror for mile after mile. It wasn't hard to keep track of him; at this unholy hour, so far out of town, we were the only two people on the road.
If any other guy had pulled this stunt, I'd already be calling 911. But I knew Greyson. He and Marcus had been friends for years. And even after Marcus died, even though I hated Grey for everything he'd taken away from me, I found I couldn't completely distrust him. Even if he was only helping me to soothe his own guilt, I could tell that his desire to help me was sincere in itself. He didn't have an ulterior motive—or rather, he did, but I knew it already. This was his attempt to atone for his sins, pure and simple. He hadn't gone to all this effort just to get into my pants or steal my kidneys or whatever the hell Brant was after. Grey's chivalry may have been annoying as hell...but it was pure. No funny business. Unlike certain middle-aged creepazoids.
So instead of pulling over to yell at him, I just kept driving. My new shadow followed me all the way to my dilapidated apartment complex. By the time I backed into my assigned parking spot, I was surprised to find tears in my eyes. As much as I resented Grey, nobody had shown such genuine concern for me in a long time. Nobody else had cared whether I got home safely.
I turned off the engine, stepped out, and saw him idling in the middle of the narrow lot. I almost wanted to wave goodbye. Almost.
He finally roared away when I shut the front door behind me. I walked through my silent apartment, finding the babysitter asleep in the armchair. I shook her shoulder to wake her and handed her some of the cash I’d just made. And then she was gone, and I was alone again. I breathed in the thick, musty stillness as I slipped off my shoes.
I crept into the bathroom to wash my face, but something made me pause just before I turned on the water. I stared blankly into the mirror. The remnants of the makeup I wore for every shift was left, and I knew the customers loved it. But in that moment, my face struck me as a grotesque mask. Bloody lips, porcelain skin, cartoonish lashes, eyeliner and shadow smeared into bruise-blue raccoon circles. This wasn't me. This was barely even a woman. This was a...plaything.
My insides tightened, all the way from my stomach to my throat. My eyes burned from more than the makeup. What was I doing here? Who was I? What had my life become?
Stifling a sob, I hurried into Maple's nursery. I needed the comfort of her sweet little snores, her clean milky smell, the sight of her tiny hand curled in her mouth. Some reminder that I wasn't really as alone as I felt. Some reassurance that everything—the grief, the long hours, the lack of sleep, the humiliation—would all be worth it in the end.
But it wasn't enough. I sank down beside her crib and cried as quietly as I could. I hated myself for surrendering to hysteria like this. I hated how deep Grey's stormy eyes always saw into my soul. I hated the fact that he might be the only man in the world who could understand me. The only other person who ached so much over the same loss.
Chapter Five
Greyson
It had been a long fucking day. Between lack of sleep after I’d escorted Finley home in the middle of the night, to dealing with a tough assignment at work all day, I was ready for a drink. Arriving home, I tossed my keys and cell phone onto the kitchen counter and made my way straight to the dark walnut and leaded glass liquor cabinet. I’d bought this thing from an estate sale and restored it myself, sanding and staining the wood and replacing the old cracked glass. Now it held expensive bottles of various liquors that I rarely indulged in. But days like today? You bet your ass I’d be enjoying at least a few.
Dropping a couple of ice cubes into the bottom of a tumbler, I added a long pour of Glenmorgie. It wasn’t the world’s best Scotch – by far – but it was what my dad used to drink when he was still alive, and something about the golden bottle and the stiff, smoky aroma conjured up pleasant memories.
My house, while it was quiet and tidy, felt lacking. Ignoring the strange feelings stirring inside me, I settled down onto the couch and flipped on the TV just for some background noise. Then I took a calming sip of my drink.
I'd bought this house within a week of retiring from the SEALs. It was too big for just a bachelor, but the two-story brick structure with its wide front porch made a statement. I hadn't put too much thought into it; tired of moving around, I'd just wanted somewhere permanent, so I'd let my gut choose this place for me. At the time, with military life fresh in my memory, this house had felt right. I wasn’t going anywhere, wasn’t going to spend anymore sleepless nights on a cot in the desert with a loaded gun at my side, and there was comfort in that.
But as I sat here now, I realized that my once-refuge was too quiet, even with the TV blaring. It was too big and empty. It was strange how I felt more comfortable in Finley’s tiny apartment filled with laughter and squeals than I was in my own home.
Finley... I took another sip of whiskey, larger this time. I both wanted and didn't want to think about her. The tangle of pain that tied us together.
To all outside appearances, I’d moved on. I'd retired from the military, bought a house in a quiet suburb north of Dallas, started working as a consultant for a private security firm run by my former commander. I had settled into a picture-perfect civilian routine. But actually getting on with my life - forgiving myself for what happened, finding pleasure in my newfound freedom? I wasn’t there yet. And now, knowing how Finley was living, letting go of the past just wasn’t an option.
The memories of her that had been etched into my brain needed to change. All I saw when I looked at her was the way she'd looked at the funeral, screaming and sobbing, the tears of anger and desperation sliding down her cheeks. I wanted to paint over that memory with something more positive. Like watching her with her daughter. Marcus would’ve been wrapped around his little girl’s finger. Didn’t matter that he was a two-hundred pound SEAL—Maple had a way about her.
I could tell then that Finley had been pregnant. Maybe it was a sixth sense. Maybe it was the way her hand absently went to her belly. Whatever it was that cued me in, I'd looked closer, and seen the slight swell under her black wrap dress that had never been there before. She obviously wasn’t telling people yet, so I hadn’t said anything. I figured it was either too early to share the news, or just that the somber occasion wasn’t the place she wanted to do it.
Shit, looking back now, I realized that she'd been just barely pregnant, yet already holding her almost-flat belly. Protectively, fearfully, in a silent show of worry for the difficult life ahead of her. She'd known exactly how hard single motherhood would be. No time to grieve and find closure—her attention had been forced towards the future. I’d never pieced that all together before now. Just another reason why I was determined to make sure she wouldn’t have to go it alone.
I’d tried for years to act like I was immune to her, like I didn’t notice special things about her, but I knew them all. The small, crescent-shaped birthmark at the nape of her neck that only showed when she wore her hair up. The way the gold bangle bracelets she favored hung on her slender wrist. Delicate fingers that she kept painted pink, or red, or something equally girly at all times. Of course I’d noticed the change in her that day. But I’d tried like hell to disappear and stay out of her way, since I was probably the last person she wanted to see – a constant visual reminder of her loss.
Letting out a heavy sigh, I considered driving down to my buddy West’s bar for a drink, maybe picking up a woman to bring home and keep me company for the night. Filling my bedroom with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and feminine cries of pleasure would be better than sitting here, so deep in silence that the hum of the refrigerator almost deafened me.
But of course, whoever I picked up wouldn’t be the one I really wanted. Finley … with her sweet curves, and green eyes, and sassy attitude that made me work for every inch of ground I gained with her.
Fuck.
Why was I sitting here thinking about Finley like that? She was my buddy’s widow. End of fucking story. If there was one thing that flowed through my veins, it was honor. Poaching her after his death would be unforgiveable. Truly putting the final nail in his coffin.
But I hadn’t even thought about anyone else in the days since I’d first run into her. Hell, I’d jacked myself raw every night to the memory of her up on that stage. Eyes closed – grinding her hips – blonde hair flowing like a halo. Her body was built for sin, but there was something angelic about her, too. Maybe it was because I knew she was a sweet mother to a little girl. Or it could have been the pure white lace delicately covering up all the parts of her I wanted to taste. Those rosy pink nipples, the soft folds between her creamy thighs …
I cursed under my breath and rose from the couch. I needed to stop this line of thinking right now. Even if a future was possible with Finley, she’d never think of me that way. Not after how Marcus had died. That much was obvious from how things had gone down at our last dinner. The best I could do now would be to stay out of her way and offer up subtle help with her little girl in a way she couldn’t refuse.
I owed it to everyone involved—myself, Marcus, Finley, and Maple—to at least try. Grabbing my cell phone, I hit the contact number for my boss, Jerry.
“Everything okay?” he answered. He knew today’s assignment had been a shitstorm, but that wasn’t what was occupying the space in my brain.
“Yeah. It’s fine. I was actually calling about something else. Something … personal.”
He was quiet for several seconds. He and I didn’t do the personal sharing thing. “O-kay?” He drew out the word, obviously at a loss as to what the fuck I was going to spring on him.
“I wanted to let you know that I won’t be in tomorrow.”
“What’s going on? Are you sure everything’s alright?”
I’d never missed a day of work. Not even when I had the stomach flu last year. But after relying on the trash can under my desk as a sick-basin, my team had kicked me out of the office. Rightly so. That had been my one and only absence while working for Redstone.
“It will be. It’s Finley Sutton, Marcus’s widow.” I cleared my throat, feeling strangely choked up. “She needs some help.”
“I see. Is there anything I can do?” he asked.
“I don’t think so. I’ve got it covered.” I could have asked him for just about anything, and he would have helped in an instant. But this duty was mine to fulfill.
“Of course. Take all the time you need,” Jerry said before we ended the call. He knew my history with Marcus, and therefore the level of responsibility I felt toward his widow. I knew he wouldn’t argue with me, but still it felt good to get it out in the open.
Jerry had a streak of loyalty that ran even deeper than mine. And several months ago, when his daughter Lacey had been kidnapped, I had been every bit as committed to her rescue as Nolan had. Jerry would just have to do without me for one day.
* * *
The next afternoon, Finley stared at me through the crack in the doorway. I could only see one green eye watching me through the small space, but it still sent a small jolt through me.
“Hey,” I offered. Obviously we weren’t on friendly terms, despite my efforts lately.
“Hey,” she returned, voice cold and emotionless.
“Can I … come in?”
She let out a deep, exasperated sigh. “Did you need something?”
“Just to talk.” I held up both palms in a show of innocence.
She shut the door abruptly, and I heard the chain slide free from the lock before she pulled it open again. “Talk, Greyson.” Now that I had a full view, I saw that Finley was dressed in an oversized sweatshirt that fell off one shoulder, exposing a black bra strap, and a pair of well-fitted jeans that clung to her rounded hips and ass. I didn’t want to notice things like this about her—fuck, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to be here on her doorstep, but something bigger than me was at work here. I was compelled. And so here I was.
When I finally tore my gaze away from her, I could see Maple playing on the living room floor. She looked up at me and smiled. “Ay-son,” she said in that sweet little voice that could melt a man faster than the Texas sun.
“Hi, angel.”
“So …” Finley prompted.
I resisted the urge to tilt my head to the side and pop my neck, despite the headache I could feel building. Focus, Grey. She might not like me, but her daughter did. I had to use every angle to my advantage.
“I know we’ve talked about this, and you made it very clear where you stand. But I have a proposition for you. Let me be here for her.” I tipped my chin toward Maple.
She narrowed her eyes on mine. “Why would you want to do that?”
I knew she was thinking this was some strange brotherhood-bond thing, but it was more than that. Something inside me just wanted to be around them. It made me feel … normal. It gave my life some much needed spice. “She needs a father figure in her life, Finley. It’ll be good for her.”
She made a little hmpf sound in her throat, but she didn’t argue. She couldn’t, because she knew I was right, even if it was only about that one thing.
And from that point forward, I started coming twice a week, like clockwork. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I’d bring dinner by and hang out with Maple for a couple of hours before bedtime. We read stories, played make-believe, fed her baby doll from a spoon, and watched cartoons on my iPhone while she curled in my lap.
I didn’t change diapers, didn’t try to play the hero, and I definitely didn’t try to engage Finley in any deep or meaningful conversations. But it worked. Slowly things started to become less awkward. Slowly I felt the walls that Finley had constructed around her and her daughter begin to slip. And the knots of tension that had trapped us in place began to unravel.
And today, three weeks later, here I was again, pulling up to the apartment with a bag of groceries. Only this time, in addition to the takeout, I had a bottle of red wine tucked inside the bag too. I hadn’t pushed Finley for more, hadn’t pressured her again about quitting the club, but of course it had been lurking in the back of my mind. Tonight, I planned to give her a gentle nudge.
“Chinese?” Finley asked with skepticism, removing the white cartons from the bag and setting them on the table.
“A man can only eat so much macaroni and cheese.” I grinned at her. Usually I opted for getting Maple’s favorite foods, but tonight I wanted to try something different. Fuck, I needed to if my taste buds were to survive. “There’s fried rice and egg rolls and a few other things, hopefully that’s okay.” I shifted Maple to my other arm. When I was here, she often clung to me like a little koala bear, which Finley assured me was not the norm. She didn’t go to strangers, didn’t let just anyone hold her. Which of course made me feel like the luckiest man in the world. She trusted me. Her mom, on the other hand … I was pretty sure I’d moved only from lurid hatred to mild irritation on her barometer.
Finley’s tone softened. “This is perfect. I didn’t want to complain, since I know you’ve been making such an effort, but I don’t think I could have eaten another bite of macaroni.”
I chuckled at her, but my laughter stopped short when I saw her holding up the bottle of wine with a look of confusion etched into her pretty features. Since I’d been coming here, I hadn’t done anything remotely romantic, nothing to suggest our time together was a date. No, I was here for Maple. Plain and simple. But the wine, the non-toddler food—it was different than my usual MO, and she picked up on it right away.
“Merlot?” she asked, inspecting the bottle. It wasn’t expensive, but it wasn’t cheap either.
“What? Does French wine not pair well with Chinese? I can never remember these things.”
She made one of those hmpf noises I was coming to know meant she was annoyed, but wasn’t going to argue. Then she set the bottle down. “I’ll look for my wine opener. It’s been a while since I used it.”
Interesting. Not only was she not going to fight me, she was going to indulge in a glass with me. It felt like a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
I fixed Maple’s pink princess plate while Finley poured the wine.
She set our plates out while Maple dug in. I grabbed the sippy cup of milk in the fridge. It wasn't lost on me that Finley’s routine had expanded to include me. Despite her reluctance about letting me into their life, we had gotten into a comfortable groove, our interactions slowly becoming less awkward and more sincere.
