When I said that, his arms tightened reflexively around me. This move spoke to me though I didn’t know what it was saying. So I lifted my head to look down at him and he didn’t manage to hide the uneasy shadow drifting through his eyes before I caught it.

“Mike?” I prompted.

“Clarisse. My daughter. She’ll be fifteen soon. She was Daddy’s Little Girl until last year. We were tight. All good. She’s entered a phase,” he explained.

“What phase?”

“Not sure,” he murmured then went on. “Secretive. Moody. She fights with her brother most of the time, her mother all the time and me some of the time.”

I knew all about that.

“What does her Mom say?” I asked.

“Audrey and I don’t speak. Her decree. I fought for and got full custody of the kids which meant child support disappeared. She’s struggling and blames me. So I don’t know what she says except through Reesee who informs me her mother’s a bitch. In those words.”

That didn’t sound good.

I stepped in. “Right then, quick education of knowing female to clueless male with teenage daughter. Secretive, moody and argumentative are gonna be your crosses to bear for a while, honey.”

He studied me and he did it closely. I knew what he was thinking and hoped he wouldn’t go there. It was a time I wasn’t proud of and he must have read me because he didn’t go there.

Instead, he asked, “How long of this sentence do I got?”

“She started her period?”

He flinched. I grinned.

Yeah, Daddy’s Little Girl all right. The idea of his baby becoming a woman was not something he liked to think about.

Then he answered, “Yeah.”

“You’re lucky, a year, maybe two. You’re not, you’re lookin’ at at least a nickel.”

“Fuck,” he muttered and my grin got bigger.

Then my grin faded and I whispered, “We snap out of it. Promise.”

His arms separated. One slid up my back. The other slid low on my hips. And they did this while he again studied me closely.

Then he nodded, getting me because he could see that I wasn’t who I used to be but he said quietly, “Hope you’re right.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

He shook his head but stated, “I’m seein’ a lot of her Mom in her. This isn’t good. And I don’t know if I can draw out those demons or if it’s ingrained in her.”

“And those demons would be?” I prompted.

“She wants shit, lots of it. Shit I can’t afford. Shit she doesn’t need. And she’s not happy she can’t have it.”

I tipped my head to the side and suggested carefully, “Child of divorce?”

He shook his head, not in a “no” but in an “I don’t know” and replied, “We’ll see.”

I took one arm from around him, slid it up his chest, his neck to cup his cheek and I shared, “Mom, Dad, Darrin, my headspace was f**ked but they never gave up on me. I came out of it, they were there. Not long after, I realized they always were. I never forgot it and that meant the world to me. I don’t know, babe, I don’t have kids but my advice, just don’t give up on her.”

“Wouldn’t do that anyway,” he muttered and I suspected he wouldn’t. His eyes captured mine and he asked, “How long you stayin’?”

“Well, since Debbie’s here for a couple of days, tomorrow I’m having brunch with the family sans my bitchface sister and if I’m happy with their pulse, my plane leaves tomorrow afternoon. I’m not, my plans are up in the air.”

He nodded right before he leaned in, twisted and took me to my back and when he settled, torso on me and h*ps between my legs, he asked quietly, “Your medium-sized vases sell for two hundred a go, that mean you can afford to get your ass on a plane to visit The ‘Burg frequently?”

My heart skipped and it hadn’t done that in a long time. Beau never made it do that, not even in the beginning. It had been so long, I didn’t know which moron had made it skip last.

But it skipped then. Definitely.

“Yes,” I whispered.

His eyes looked deep in mine.

Then he whispered back, “Good.”

“I’m glad you came to ream my ass and sort my shit out, Mike,” I shared.

He grinned and returned, “Not as glad as me.”

“No, I’m pretty sure I’m more glad.”

His grin turned to a smile and he conceded, “All right, honey, you can be more glad than me.”

“Thanks,” I said quietly.

“Now, you gonna shut up and kiss me or what?”

“Seriously?” I asked. “I think I already explained you’re good with your mouth. Do you think I’m gonna answer ‘or what’?”

“You’re not shutting up,” he informed me.

“Oh,” I whispered. “Right.”

His smile got bigger right before I lifted my head to kiss him.

Mike met me halfway.

Chapter Three

The Food of Your People

A cell phone ringing woke Mike up.

It wasn’t his ring but he opened his eyes and looked across the empty bed. Dusty and her warm, soft body were gone.

She’d slept snuggled close to him all night. As he usually did, starting when No was born, he woke several times. He did this just to scan the vibe of the house. Sometimes, even if his senses told him nothing was wrong, he’d get up and do a walkthrough. He didn’t do this frequently but he did it. Paranoid, maybe, but he’d seen enough shit, heard a f**kload more, he loved his kids, it didn’t take long and he fell back to sleep easily so he did it.

And habit woke him three times in the night and each time Dusty was pressed close.

She felt good there.

Audrey didn’t press close. She did in the beginning but as things turned bad, he retreated. She got pissy and they ended their relationship with a yard of space between them in their bed. His back turned to her, hers turned to him.

Fuck, their bed itself was an example of the reason why their marriage deteriorated. She’d bought a six thousand dollar bed and very shortly after he’d discovered it couldn’t be returned. So they had a huge-ass bed in which they could have a yard of space between them, her buying that damned bed being why the space was there.

Since he’d got quit of her, he’d taken a number of women to bed but not his bed.

Except for Vi.

He hadn’t even invited any of the women he’d seen to his home. Although some of them he’d seen more than once, one he’d dated for five months. And he’d spent the night at their places but none of them he’d let snuggle him while he slept.