Jagged (15 page)

My head gave a jerk as what he said tardily hit me.

“You wanted me
with you
?”

He was beginning to look impatient.

“You’ve known me years. I ever go back?” he asked.

“Go back to what?”

“Go back
anywhere
.”

“Ham—”

“I don’t go back,” he declared.

“I don’t get—”

“Now I’m back in Gnaw Bone, back at The Dog, babe, why do you think that is?”

I didn’t speak. I was back to staring.

Because I knew why I
wanted
that to be.

I just rarely got what I wanted.

Then Graham Reece finally gave me what I wanted.

“Because you’re here.”

“Holy shit,” I whispered.

He stopped looking impatient, his eyes warmed, his face went soft, and his lips twitched.

But, “Yeah,” was all he said.

This was too much. Too fast. Too good.

I didn’t know if I ever had good.

Well, my shop, Karma, was good and the four months I had of Ham years ago were good. Not to mention the times in between with Ham. Those were good, too.

But I’d never had
good.

“I don’t know what to do with this,” I told him quietly.

“First thing you’re gonna do is, after we fuck, stay in my goddamned bed for more than five seconds. Next thing you’re gonna do will happen tomorrow and that’s you movin’ your shit in here because here’s where you’re gonna be sleepin’ from now on. And after that, I don’t know.” He shrugged and concluded, “We’ll wing it.”

We’d wing it?

Yes, this was too much and it was too fast.

There were things to be said.

“Ham, you… we… when you… that is when we—”

His lips twitched again before he urged, “Spit it out, darlin’.”

“I can’t go back.”

There was no lip twitch then. His hand slid to my neck, palm at my throat, fingers digging in the side.

“Cookie,” he whispered.

I shook my head. “I want that but I can’t have it because it’s not what I really want. We’ve always been honest so I have to lay it out so you know where I’m at.” I took in a deep breath that was nevertheless shaky and laid it out. “I barely survived walking away from you. I couldn’t handle you walking away from me.”

Strangely his face got a mixture of hard and soft, his eyes warm and sharp before he stated, “Zara, you’re not paying attention.”

He was wrong. I so totally was. I was paying so much attention, if I paid more, my head would explode.

“I am, Ham. You said it yourself. You have issues with women. You’re a rolling stone. You—”

I stopped speaking when he rolled into a seated position, back to headboard, taking me with him so I was straddling his lap, my torso pressed close.

He had one arm clamped tight around my waist and he had sifted the other hand into my hair and was cupping the back of my head.

“I’m here,” he stated.

“I know you are, but—”

“Baby, please be quiet for a bit and listen to me,” he requested gently.

I shut my mouth.

“I’m here, Zara, as in, I intend to stay here. I own a TV. A bed. Bought fuckin’ nightstands, a dresser, and lamps. This is it. This is where I wanna be. It’s where I wanna be because I like the people, I like the work, I like the bar where I work, all in God’s country. But this is mostly where I wanna be because
you’re
here.”

Now that was not too fast.

That took a long fucking time.

“Oh my God,” I breathed.

I wanted to believe that. I would have paid him to give me that. I would have sold my soul to the devil to have that.

But after wanting it for so long and never having it, I couldn’t believe in it.

Fortune seemed finally to be shining on me because Ham wasn’t done.

“Baby, a man lives his life runnin’ from history, hopin’ it doesn’t catch up and repeat itself, goes to sleep one night, opens his eyes in the dark to a man wielding an ax, suddenly findin’ himself facin’ an end that’s a fair bit worse than most, a footnote to a far uglier piece of history, I’ve told you before, he reflects. I also told you I did that. And you haven’t paid attention but I’m not just a bartender anymore. I’m a manager. I got responsibilities and I gave promises of longevity. I can’t put everything I own in my truck and move on.” His fingers tensed against my scalp. “Darlin’, I’m settling. What you didn’t know, what I was keepin’ back ’til the right time, that time bein’ now, was, I’m doin’ it with you.”

Was he serious?

Please tell me he was serious.

To get Ham, the only one who could answer that question, to do that, I used one word, “Why?”

“’Cause you’re my cookie, you’re easy, you’re funny, you’re honest, you’re fuckin’ sexy, you love my dick, and you’re not hard on the eyes.”

That was all awesome.

But somehow it also was not.

It was… flat.

Luckily, he wasn’t done.

“And I want kids. Hope I didn’t wait too long but I want them. I want a family, always have. Lost my parents young, Mom when I was seventeen, Dad when I was twenty-one, didn’t have any brothers or sisters but had it good with Mom and Dad. I want that back, want to give that to kids. You want them, too, and I know, what went down with your family, you’ve learned. So you’ll be a great mom.”

Okay. Again.

Please tell me he was serious.

Please, God, tell me this was happening to me.

I mean, I knew about his parents. His mom had always had really bad diabetes so even though Ham told me often she was a great mom that illness was always hanging over their heads.

His dad was a shock, heart attack at a young age. Then again, Ham said he drank, was overweight, and had a deep affinity for anything fried so during one of our heart-to-hearts when Ham and I first got together, he told me, even though his dad’s dying was a shock, it wasn’t a surprise.

But until then, I didn’t know my travelin’ man had always wanted a family.

Something I’d always wanted, too.

One that was better than the one I was born into, that was.

“Ham—”

“Plus, you’re all kinds of pretty. We’ll make beautiful babies, have fun doin’ it, and have fun raisin’ ’em. You’ll get my history because you lived a lot of it with me. I’ll share the rest. I’ll get yours because I’ve been in your life to share it with you. We never fight unless your head’s a mess because shit is fucked in your life and I’ve been recently attacked by an ax-wielding fuckwit. Or because I’m actin’ like a dick because listenin’ to you make yourself come after spendin’ night after night in a bed a door down from you was doin’ my motherfucking head in and I hadn’t been in there for years drove me to act like a dick.”

“So that’s what that was about,” I replied.

That got me another lip twitch and his arms pulled me closer. “Yeah, darlin’, that was what that was about.” His eyes dropped to my mouth and his voice dipped deeper. “Fuck, it sounded hot, good, went on so goddamned long. Torture.”

My stomach pitched.

“Ham,” I called and his eyes came to mine but his hand in my hair slid to my jaw.

“What, baby?”

He asked his question but I was lost in his eyes.

They were hooded and heated. Burning into mine.

Thus I knew his mind was not on what I was going to say.

It was elsewhere.

My mind joined it.

His thumb slid over my lower lip.

I lost my mind and pressed my lips to his.

He opened his lips over mine, slid his tongue inside and his hand back up into my hair, and my arms slid around him.

He slanted his head. I tipped mine the other way and Ham took the kiss deeper.

Then I was on my back in his bed and Ham was on top of me.

Not long after, I was naked on my back in his bed and Ham was moving inside me, his lips to mine but not kissing.

Breathing.

Heavily.

“When we’re done, you’re comin’ with me to the bathroom,” he ordered, voice thick.

“I won’t leave your bed, babe,” I assured him through panting.

Ham’s hips powered faster and I gasped against his mouth.

“You’re comin’ with,” he stated, voice now gruff.

I was so very close but still managed to force out a breathily exasperated, “Ham, I won’t leave your bed.”

“Makin’ sure and killin’ two birds with one stone by fuckin’ you in the shower while we’re there.”

Now,
that
I could do. Gladly.

I didn’t say that.

I arched my neck, wound my limbs tight around him, tipped my hips into his thrusts, and came.

* * *

Dawn was just lighting the sky when we were done and lying together in Ham’s bed. I’d gone to my room to get my nightgown, but I was back plastered against Ham’s side, cheek to his shoulder, fingers lightly raking through the hair on his chest. Ham, on his back, his arm tucked under and wrapped around me, was drawing random patterns with his fingertips on my hip.

“There’s more to say,” I told his chest softly.

“We’ll say it,” he replied.

“I’m scared,” I admitted.

“I get that. We got a shift to get through, baby, moving us to somethin’ we’ve never had. You promise to hold on to me, I’ll promise to hold on to you and we’ll make it through.”

God, I wanted that. I so, so wanted that.

But I had to be sure before I lost myself in the beauty of it.

“I need to know your issues with women,” I told him.

“And I’ll tell you, tomorrow night, when I take my girl out to a nice dinner. We’ll lay our shit, bare, baby, and then we’ll move on.”

I lifted my head and looked at his face. “You’re going to give me that?”

His hand came up to cup my cheek and he whispered, “Cookie, pay attention. I’m gonna give you everything.”

That was when Ham gave it to me. What I wanted. What I needed.

Proof I could lose myself in the beauty of it.

In him.

Oh my God, I was going to cry.

Man, oh man, I was crying.

I planted my face in his chest and let loose.

Ham wrapped his arms around me, pressed into me so we were both on our sides as he pulled me up, and tucked my face in his throat. Then he held me while I cried.

And while I cried, it happened.

It came to me.

All of it.

Ham was in Gnaw Bone only a week before he made the ludicrous sound reasonable and talked me into moving into his second bedroom.

Ham gave me a job at his bar when, with the reduced rent I was paying him, I could get on my feet working at Deluxe Home Store. Ham took me to work nearly every night when I wasn’t pissed or freaking out.

Ham scheduled us both off on the same days so we had the opportunity to spend the maximum amount of time together that we could, definitely at work, but also at home.

And when I went to him that first night, Ham not hesitating but a half a second before I was on my back in his bed.

And, last, when I went to him again, he’d yanked me into his bed.

Something else hit me and, with all the rest, it didn’t make sense.

“You fucked that blonde,” I accused his neck, my breath hitching through it because I was still crying.

“What?” he asked.

“That blonde you were flirting with, you fucked her.”

“What blonde?”

I stopped crying because I was shocked at his question and the fact that he sounded baffled. I was also, but more so, pissed.

How could he forget the blonde? He’d had her only a couple of weeks ago.

I yanked my face out of his throat and tipped my head back, watching his chin dip down, and I caught his eyes in the semi-dark.

“That blonde, Ham, that blonde you were flirting with the other night who you took down the back hall of the bar.”

To this, he strangely replied, “She was hammered.”

“What?”

“Blitzed, babe, totally out of it. I took her home. She lived in fuckin’ Chantelle, so it took a while. I came back to the bar, you were gone. I finished the shit I needed to finish, and seein’ as
you
were flirtin’ with that fuckwit, I was pissed so I sat in on a poker game so I could get my mind off you and your shit.” He paused, then finished with, “I won fifteen hundred dollars.”

“She was hammered?” I asked.

“Passed out in the truck. Got her to come to in order to walk her to her house. She passed out on her living room couch before I took two steps back to her front door.”

This was good news. Not only had Ham not fucked her, she’d been so blotto, she passed out, which meant her punishment for flirting with my guy was her having a hangover the next day.

It didn’t make me a nice person, she had no idea he was my guy,
I
didn’t even have any idea at the time he was my guy. But still, I liked this.

Onward.

“You won fifteen hundred dollars?” I asked.

I saw the white flash of his teeth and his arms gave me a squeeze.

“Yeah. Means we can go crazy at The Rooster tomorrow night.”

We were going to The Rooster? I
loved
The Rooster.

I let The Rooster go and narrowed my eyes.

“Since when does the manager of The Dog take drunk women home?” I queried. “Jake calls a taxi”—I paused to drive my point home—“unless the woman is hot.”

“They do that shit when they spend a night gettin’ crap from their girl who doesn’t know she’s his girl’s friends and watchin’ her flirt with some jackass and give him her number. Had to get the fuck outta there so I didn’t rip that jackass’s head off.”

That explained that.

My eyes un-narrowed and my body melted into his.

“That guy ever call you?” Ham asked.

“I didn’t pick up.”

“How many times did he call you?” he pushed.

I pressed my lips together and when his eyes narrowed, I answered, “Twelve…
ish.
I quit counting.”

“Fuck,” he muttered to the ceiling.

I decided to stay silent.

Ham looked back at me.

“You thought I fucked her?”

“You were flirting with her.”

“I was pouring her drinks. My job is to sell booze, babe, and you and me both know tossin’ a smile at a randy drunk is a good way to do that.”

He wasn’t wrong about that.