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My mouth opened and closed like a fish. I had no idea what to say. He was absolutely right. Despite that, I was absolutely not ready to admit it—out loud.

His jaw clenched and unclenched. Eyes closed, he took a deep breath and opened them again to look at me. “I’m tired and I have to be up early for a radio interview. Gonna go to bed early tonight.”

I nodded, feeling my throat begin to burn with the need to cry. “Okay. Goodnight. Be safe tomorrow and I’ll talk—”

He’d already ended the call.

I went to bed that night clutching the pillow that still smelled like him and wondered what I’d just done.

The next morning, I texted Evan as soon as I woke up telling him I was sorry for being such a bitch and we needed to talk later on. Then I wished him luck on his interview.

When he called me before the show that night, he acted like everything was fine between us. He didn’t mention the words
girlfriend
or
relationship
again.

***

I’d expected Evan back in town the following day, but he called to tell me they canceled his appearance in Houston. They sent him home to Tampa, instead. I was disappointed, obviously. I wanted to apologize for my bitchy behavior in person, to see in his eyes he forgave me. But I had to wait an extra week to see him, which made me snap to how spoiled I’d become.

Evan hadn’t been in Houston every single week since May, though it was pretty damn close. The only times he hadn’t flown back after a show was when he’d been out of the country. I’d grown used to seeing him often. Waking up with him by my side.

So maybe it was for the best he went home for a few days. I was getting way too attached.

When Evan came back to Houston the following week, we spent the first twenty-four hours locked in my bedroom. When we returned to the land of the living, I found fourteen texts from Mel demanding to know where I was and why the hell I wasn’t calling her back. The last message read
Nevermind. Just checked Evan’s schedule on his site and see he’s in Houston. Call me when you come up for air.

He stole my phone and took a selfie of the two of us to send to her with the message
She’s alive. But if you ever want to see her again, send pizza and beer within thirty minutes.

I wasn’t even a little surprised when the Domino’s guy showed up at our door with a large half cheese, half pepperoni and a six-pack of Heineken. We once paid him twenty bucks extra to grab some beer for us when we were too lazy to go out, ourselves. Ever since then, he always offered to pick some up when we called in.

I guess what they say about tipping well is true. Do it once, they’ll love you forever.

The next day after we drank enough water to drown an elephant, I took Evan to some of the many museums Houston had to offer. He loved the Museum of Natural Science so much he got us memberships so we could go any time we wanted.

It surprised us both how much we enjoyed going to the Children’s Museum. I took dozens of pictures of us both playing on the different attractions. I framed one someone had taken for us scrunched up in one of those old vans from the sixties that looked like a turtle, his arms wrapped possessively around me.

I gave it to him when he went back on the road after our trip there, and he grinned at the photo, pulling me into his arms and kissing me hard. Apparently, he couldn’t care less we were standing in a crowd of people at the airport. Luckily, no one seemed to notice who he was.

I didn’t look back when I left him at the security line. I didn’t want him to see how much I was going to miss him.

***

The night before Evan returned to Houston, I stayed up until forever. The last time I checked the clock, it had been 2:15, and I was pretty sure I didn’t fall asleep until at least an hour later. My mind and heart both raced so fast, I was almost afraid I was having a heart attack.

Rather than staring at my hugely uninteresting ceiling all night, I decided to get up and be useful. So I cleaned my already clean kitchen, scrubbing the counters down with a bleach solution and wiping off the walls just in case I’d accidentally splattered the back splash with food particles while cooking dinner.

Using the small vacuum so I didn’t disturb cat lady downstairs, I went over the carpet again, making sure to leave nice vacuum lines. They’d inevitably be gone before he arrived since the living room was such a high traffic area, being the middle of the apartment and all, but I loved seeing them there—even for a little while.

I wiped the entertainment center and TV down with a dust cloth, Windexed the spot-free windows, put bleach in the toilet to sit until morning, scrubbed the tub and countertop in the bathroom, dusted the dresser in my bedroom, and straightened the blankets.

After cleaning my already clean apartment, I sat on the edge of my bed, tapping my fingers on my knee as I watched the clock tick seconds slowly by.

Surely, I’ll get tired soon. I can’t stay up all night. I have to get Evan from the airport at eight. With stupid Houston traffic, that means I have to leave by six forty-five. If I go to bed now, I’ll get four solid hours before I have to get up and shower.

I climbed back in bed, turned off my bedside lamp, and closed my eyes. And waited. And waited. And waited. But sleep didn’t come.

It wasn’t like this was his first time coming back to town. He’d flown in dozens of times, and if things kept going the way they were, he was likely to fly in dozens more. So why the hell was I so anxious?

Because you miss him, you idiot.

I told myself to shut up, rolled over, and closed my eyes again.

My alarm screamed at me the second I closed my eyes. I hit snooze probably one—or three—too many times, but I managed to shower and brew some coffee to put in a travel mug. I chose and discarded six outfits before deciding on going casual. Evan liked it when I got dolled up, but he seemed to love when we just hung out at the house in jeans, T-shirts, and bare feet. Skipping makeup, I put my still wet hair into a sloppy bun, made a toaster waffle, and took it with my coffee to go.

Even though I took the longer way, it was still faster than going straight down Interstate 45. I ended up having to take it part of the way, and despite driving against traffic at that time of the morning, there was still enough it had me cursing a blue streak until I got to the airport parking garage.

The minute I pulled into a space, my hands started shaking. I decided to leave my coffee in the car, because clearly I’d had too much, and took note of where exactly I’d parked by taking a picture of the nearest pole with a number on it with my phone. The last time I’d forgotten to snap a photo, it took me three hours to find my damn car.

Three hours in the Texas heat feels more like three months. I firmly resolved it would never happen again. So my phone had several different pictures of random parking garage signs from all over Houston. Someday, I’d get around to deleting the old ones.

Just like someday I’d get around to writing the great American novel, racing in the Indy 500, climbing Mount Everest, and swimming with sharks without a cage. Ha.

Friday mornings were a popular time to fly, so I should’ve expected the airport to be packed. But seeing it jammed full of people threw me off my game a little. Probably in a good way, since it meant I no longer focused on my nerves, and I got to people watch while I waited for my phone to alert me to Evan’s arrival text message.

I found my way to the escalator nearest the security exit the public weren’t allowed past and took a seat. Keeping one eye glued to the top of the escalator, I used the other to look around.

My father and I used to people watch at the mall while my mother was shopping. We made up stories about everyone passing by—the crazier, the better. He’d stopped playing the game a long time ago, but I never could get myself to quit. Even without a partner to tell the stories to, I still made them up in my head.

The woman leaning against the support column off to the left of the escalator tried her best to look nonchalant, but she never looked away from the arrivals area. She barely even blinked. Her T-shirt was vintage and looked like something she’d owned since purchasing it at a concert herself, rather than getting it online or at Walmart as a reissue. I couldn’t tell what brand her jeans were, but I’d bet my Louis Vuitton bag—okay, fake but it’s still not cheap—they weren’t Levi’s. Her Doc Martens were only laced up partway, the tongue folded down and the side of her boots open in the part-goth, part-grunge style popular back when I was in high school. Looked like it was making a comeback, judging from all the other people who wore their boots the same way.

She checked her phone for the eighth time since I first took notice of her—either checking her phone or the time. Maybe both. I decided the person she waited for was definitely her boyfriend, in the military and coming home from deployment after a year in the Sand Box.

When he came down the escalator, all pretense of playing it cool would fly out the window. She’d run to him, throw herself in his arms with tears running down her face. Tell him how much she loves him and missed him. And then he’d get down on one knee….

I blinked out of my daydream
. What the fuck was
that
? I’m not a romantic person. Jesus, I’ve got to stop letting Melinda pick the movies for girls’ night. Too many chick flicks and I might actually turn into one.

I was so lost in thought, Evan almost knocked me over as he threw his arms around me from behind. “Hey beautiful.” He kissed the side of my neck and spun me around to face him. “Miss me?”

I shook my head. “Not at all. Were you gone?”

He laughed and leaned down to give me a proper toe-curling, panty-melting kiss. Oh, how I couldn’t wait to get this man home and into my bed. What the hell was I nervous about? Evan slung an arm around my shoulder as we made our way to the exit. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the girl wrapped around someone in uniform. I smiled when she pulled away, and stopped in my tracks when the girl in army fatigues got down on one knee.

“Baby, are you…” Evan followed my line of sight and witnessed the proposal.

When the girl wearing Docs nodded her head emphatically and put out her hand for the ring, applause sounded all around them.

“That was sweet,” Evan said as we started walking again.

I nodded, feeling slightly freaked out I’d just daydreamed almost the exact same scenario. “It was.”

Taking my hand in his, he pulled his rolling bag behind us with the other. The automatic doors swished open, and the Houston humidity slapped us in the face as we exited through the automatic doors.

Chapter Four

We were laying on the couch one night, watching an old Sean Connery James Bond movie with our legs tangled together, Evan’s fingers tracing absent patterns along my thigh when he turned to me and asked, “Do you want to go to The Main Event?”

My eyebrows drew together in confusion, “I’m already going, remember? I got tickets after doing the interview with you.”

“I know. I mean…do you want to go
with
me? Like, we ride there, and you stay backstage with me while I’m not in the ring?”

“Are you serious?”

He nodded. “Absolutely. I’d love for you to come with me.”

I couldn’t help but smile as my heart fluttered in my chest, my excitement bubbling over, “I’d love to.”

“You made my day. Thank you, beautiful.” Leaning down, he kissed me long and deep, threading his fingers into my hair.

I was ready to forget all about Agent 007 and engage in some of our own adventures when my stomach made the loudest, most embarrassing noise in my life. The neighbors might’ve even heard. I was a little surprised cat lady downstairs hadn’t started beating on the ceiling.

Evan pulled away from me, smothering a laugh. “Hungry, baby?”

I traced my fingers along the lines of his tribal tattoo, wondering if it had meaning or if it was just a cool design the artist created. “Maybe a little. I kind of forgot to eat today unless it was to taste something I cooked.”

When he sat up, bringing me with him, the world spun a little. I think sometimes he forgot how much taller and stronger he was than me. “What do you mean ‘forgot’ to eat? How does that even happen?” Standing up, he pulled me to the bar separating the kitchen from the living area and pointed at the stool I had for guests to use while I cooked. “Sit.”

The tone in his voice left no room for argument. I sat. In my mind, I panted like a good little puppy and barked, begging for treats. The laugh escaped before I could stop it.

“What’s funny about you not eating?” Evan asked, his hand resting on the refrigerator handle.

“Nothing.” I shook my head and felt a little dizzy, so I placed my hands on the cool granite of the countertop to keep from falling off the stool.
Maybe I should have taken a break today.
“I just pictured a puppy when you told me to sit. My mind wanders to strange places sometimes. Especially when I’m hungry.”

“Do you have a grill pan? Or a Panini press?”

Nodding, I pointed to the cabinet by the stove where I stored all my larger kitchen equipment.

It was so busy at the restaurant that day, I didn’t have time for a bathroom break much less thirty minutes for lunch. While I loved the fact Mystique was quickly becoming the “it” spot for lunch and dinner, my feet and stomach were definitely suffering from it.

Evan pulled several different kinds of cheese, bacon, and baby spinach from the fridge, kumato tomatoes from a bowl on the bar, a honeycrisp apple from the fruit bowl on the dining table, and whole grain wheat bread from the breadbox. Even with all my chef training, I’d never seen anything that called for all these ingredients. The apple, especially, threw me off, but I had to admit I was intrigued.

“Whatcha makin’?” I asked, leaning over the bar to inspect his haul as he grabbed a skillet from the cabinet.

The sound of the frying pan hitting the stove was like music to my ears. As much as my feet ached and my lower back screamed by the end of a working day, I loved being in the kitchen. Loved the sounds and smells as a meal came together.

“We call it Elaborate Grilled Cheese.” Evan put several slices of bacon on to fry and turned to slice the cheese, apple, and tomatoes. “My niece’s daycare provider Christine told me about it one day when I picked her up as a favor to my sister, who had a flat tire and was sitting on the roadside waiting for AAA since her spare was flat, too. I was closer to the daycare than to my sister, otherwise I would have picked her up, first.”

I’d never seen him cook before, but his hands moved with grace and knowledge, like he’d done this so many times before, it was second nature to him.
Goodbye, panties.
There was nothing sexier on this planet than a man who knew how to cook, and the guy currently rocking my world as often as possible stood in my kitchen holding a knife in his hand like he’d been born with one.

Evan continued speaking as though he hadn’t just turned my insides to jelly. “When she told me about what she’d had for lunch—Elaborate Grilled Cheese—I decided I had to try it, myself. So, I took my niece to the store after we left and grabbed what I could remember her telling me went into it. My sister came over to pick Jenna up and found her four-year-old munching on bacon and cheese sandwiches while I tried hopelessly to recreate the awesome smell from Christine’s house.”

“Didn’t work the first time?”

He plugged in the Panini press to let it heat up, then turned to flip the bacon as it browned and crisped beautifully. “Not even a little. I had to beg my sister for Christine’s number so I could ask for the proper recipe. I used canned spinach instead of fresh, the bacon was almost raw, none of the cheeses I picked up were smoked—I love that you have so many different kinds of cheese on hand, by the way—and I used Roma tomatoes instead of kumato. Don’t get me wrong, my first try wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t anything like Christine’s.”

I watched as he moved the bacon slices onto a paper towel and moved the skillet to a cool burner before arranging everything on one of the bread slices and topping his masterpiece with the other. Taking the can of olive oil spray from its place by the knife block, he coated the grill and placed the sandwich on the sizzling surface before closing the lid.

While we waited for the
ding
to sound letting us know the food was ready, I got up and grabbed him a beer from the fridge. By way of thanks for my
help
, Evan pushed me against a wall and kissed me until we were both breathless. Just as I reached for the waistband of his track pants, the grill sounded its alert.

I’ve never been upset to hear food’s ready before. What is he doing to me?

Evan planted me solidly back on the stool and placed the plate in front of me. I could easily tell why he’d been so desperate for the recipe—it smelled
heavenly
.

The first bite was like an orgasm in my mouth. So was the second. I was certain I made noises that only should be heard in the bedroom, but I didn’t care. The flavor combination and the texture of the different cheeses with the bacon, tomatoes, and apples was so good, I actually closed my eyes to enjoy it more.

Evan not only knew how to cook, but he could make a grilled cheese taste better than I ever imagined. Granted, it was someone else’s recipe, but he’d learned to make it, perfected his technique, and made one for me. My heart tripped over itself in my chest.

Houston, we have a problem.

***

The limo waiting in front of my apartment building Friday evening shouldn’t have surprised me—we were going to the biggest event in wrestling, after all—but it did. Evan held my hand in his, a radiant smile on his face, “I know we’re going way earlier than you were planning on, but we have to arrive before the fans start swarming the area. It’s likely there’s already a few stalking the entrance waiting for us—the wrestlers, not just you and me—to arrive.”

“Yeah, it’d be weird, arriving
after
them,” I teased.

I’d never been inside a limo before and I couldn’t help myself—I had to play with everything. I touched every button, turned every dial, checked every crevice. I blushed at Evan’s amused expression, but the buttons and dials seemed to call to me.

When I’d finally had enough, I sat next to him and he grinned at me as he touched a finger to my chin, drawing me to him. “You’re adorable,” he murmured before pressing his lips to mine.

My hand drifted up to caress the side of his cheek and my heart tripped in my chest. I pulled back as if to look into his eyes—something I was prone to do anyway. But something in my expression must’ve been off because his face fell.

“What’s wrong, beautiful?”

“Nothing. A little nervous about tonight. There will be a lot of people there….”

He nodded. “Yes, there will be. Far more than the Hall of Fame ceremony. But you seemed to enjoy yourself quite a bit.”

“That was different. You didn’t have to leave my side for any real length of time. God only knows how long you’ll have to leave me tonight.”

“I’m pretty sure the longest I’ll be gone is forty-five minutes…which is a while,” he quickly said at my expression. “There will be several other people there. A lot of other stars, girlfriends, wives, behind-the-scenes people, and you already sort of know Keith…” he quickly said when my expression apparently contorted into
freaking the fuck out
. “Not big on crowds, huh?”

I shook my head. “Loathe them. Which is stupid, given my former profession. I can deal. I just have to psyche myself up for it first.”

“Would it help if I distracted you?”

“I think that would help, yes.”

He pressed a button, which sent the partition between the driver and the back of the car sliding up.
No wonder he called for a car rather than drive us himself.
His lips claimed mine again, and I nearly moaned as his tongue sought out and stroked mine in a sensual dance. My fingers threaded themselves into his hair and I moved closer to him.

I thanked every deity I could think of I’d chosen to wear a skirt rather than slacks as Evan’s hands moved up my thighs and creeped under the fabric. He kissed his way down my neck as his fingers toyed with the edge of my panties, so close to where I wanted him.

“Are you wet for me, Charlie?” He licked along my jawline to the spot just below my ear that drove me wild. “Should I check?”

I could only manage a nod. Bottom lip caught between my teeth, I sucked in a breath when he slid my panties to the side and ran a long, thick finger up and down my slit.

“Mmm, so wet.” He groaned, pushing into my folds and finding me drenched and ready. “Always so wet for me.” Maintaining eye contact, he slid two fingers inside me, pumping slowly until I begged for more. “After I win tonight, this is how I’m going to fuck you. It’ll start slow and sensual. I’ll touch, kiss, and lick every single inch of you until you’re mindless with need. I’ll eat that pretty pussy until you’re screaming my name. And when you think you can’t stand it anymore,
that’s
when I’ll finally, finally get inside you.”

Without pulling his hand away from my pussy, he knelt in front of me and pushed my skirt up to bare exactly what he wanted to the world—if the windows weren’t so darkly tinted. I opened my legs wider to give him room, and he eagerly pulled me so my ass hung off the edge of the seat before lowering his head and clamping his mouth over my clit.

Fireworks lit up the back of the limo. Or maybe it was just the earth-shattering orgasm coursing through me, because surely they wouldn’t have flammables back here, right?

With the way Evan made me feel, I didn’t care if the entire world burned down around me.

***

When we arrived at the stadium, I’d managed to put myself back together the best I could, considering the limo lacked a restroom. Evan still looked immaculate, even if his hair looked a little more disheveled than it should’ve been. I’d tried to return the favor, but he told me that going in the ring frustrated would help him maintain character. And we’d more than make up for it later on, after the show.

He held my hand in his as we walked into the backstage area. Someone from security handed me a pass to wear around my neck so no one would bother me while Evan was in the ring.

As he started introducing me to people, my anxiety returned. There were
so many
people, and he seemed to know them all, from the head honcho Travis Hanna all the way down to the stagehands who set up and tore down the equipment between shows.

“Don’t worry, there won’t be a quiz,” Evan joked when he introduced me to four of the female wrestlers at the same time. He’d started telling me everyone’s real names as well as their alter-egos on stage, but trying to absorb that many names at once made my head spin, so he stuck with their true identities so I’d have time to learn them all. At some point, I was sure I’d start watching wrestling and learn their alter egos. Had to support my man, right?

And there it was again—the stomach-dropping-to-the-ground, world-spinning-too-fast feeling that had me clutching at the wall for balance.
My man?

Evan swooped me off my feet and into his arms before I could fall over. “Baby, are you okay?”

I nodded feeling equal parts stupid over nearly fainting because of a thought, and turned on because Evan didn’t even hesitate when I started to go down.
My hero
. “I’m fine. Just got a little dizzy. Probably just overwhelmed by everything, and I need to eat something. I was too nervous to eat earlier.”

He gave me the look I’d begun to recognize as somewhere between irritation and amusement. “Why do you keep doing that? It’s not good for you to skip meals.”