Frog by Mary Calmes (read along books TXT) 📗

was a cell phone on the bar. I was thinking that maybe there was someone else in the house, but after a quick walk through, I realized I was alone. When it suddenly played “Desperado,” I figured the call was for me and answered it.

“Very fuckin’ funny,” I grumbled.

“You needed a phone now that you’ve got the kids with you, and I should be able to get a hold of you, right?”

It seemed logical.

“And you might need to call me sometimes too.”

I grunted.

“Like tonight.”

“This one’s too fancy.”

“I’ll show you all the cool stuff it can do later.”

“All right,” I agreed.

“And how ’bout that ringtone?” He cackled.

“It ain’t funny,” I groused at him.

There was at once his lilting laughter on the other end, sensual and mirthful at the same time. “Oh c’mon, get a sense of humor.”

“Where are you?”

“I need a favor.”

“Whatzat?”

“I met some friends out for drinks tonight after work because you had to go to that party with Carolyn and you wouldn’t have been home anyway, but now I realize I should have just gone home and waited for you.”

He was rambling, and his voice was rising. Someone was trashed. “And so?”

“Well now I’m a little drunk and so is everyone else and we walked to my friend Jeff’s place but I realized I left my car in the parking lot of the bar and I don’t want them to tow it but I don’t think I should be the one to move it and—”

“Take a breath before you pass out.”

“What?”

“I’ll move it,” I told him. “Is there a second set of keys, or do I need to come get them from you?”

“You don’t want to get me?”

“I do.” I smiled into the phone. Cy sounding unsure and needy was very cute. “But if there’s a second set, I can drive to you instead of making you walk with me back to the car.”

“Oh, yeah, that makes more sense.”

“So?”

“There’s a second set in the nightstand on my side of the bed.”

“Okay, where’s the bar?”

“Are you mad?”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Just that I went out drinking without you.”

“You’re a big boy. You can do as you please.”

“No, I know.”

“Did you have a bad day?” I prodded gently.

“What makes you ask that?”

“You’re not a big drinker. There has to be a reason for you to do that on a whim.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “I had a long, shitty day. I lost a patient, really nice lady, mother, grandmother, right before Christmas—fuck.”

“And did you tell your friends that?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“We don’t—that’s not something we do. We don’t sit around and share our feelings. That’s what your boyfriend is for.”

“I see.”

“That’s what you’re for.” He said it, emphasizing the word “boyfriend” in case I missed it.

I was quiet.

“I mean, I told them I had a fucked up day, and they just told me to drink and feel better.”

But that was his fault for not explaining that he didn’t just have a bad day, he had a terrible one.

“You should have just come on home,” I told him.

“I know that!”

“Why are you yellin’?”

“Because I know I should have just come home. I said that already.”

“I would have been here.”

“Jesus, Weber, I know! The only place I want to be right now is with you, but my car will be in some impound yard tomorrow if I leave it at the bar!”

“Okay,” I soothed him. “I’ll be right there. Tell me where the bar is.”

After he explained and gave me the address, I called for a cab and went to change out of the good clothes I was wearing and into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and a long-sleeved button-down shirt. I grabbed the peacoat I found I liked more and more with each passing day, my denim jacket still hanging in Cy’s closet from the day I had arrived, and my cowboy boots that I had picked up that morning from the shoe repair shop. Why I was antsy I had no idea, but the idea of him being drunk when I wasn’t there to warn other men off annoyed me. My reaction to him was normal; the feeling of possessiveness was not.

If I just hadn’t stopped to see him, if I had simply stayed on the damn bus, I would not have to come face to face with the truth.

Hell.

I found the bar and the lot and drove the sleek car the five blocks to his friend Jeff’s place, easily finding the huge converted warehouse that was now full of renovated, trendy lofts. I took the stairs up to the fourth floor instead of trusting the old metal freight elevator.

I thought I was going to a small get-together, but even before I reached the level, I could hear the voices and the music. It was a party, loud and raucous, and it was surprising for a Tuesday night. But I was used to going to bed at nine and being up at four in the morning. My guess was that none of these people had to be up before dawn.

Pushing between people, making my way through the crowd outside the apartment, I finally made it inside and saw him standing by the kitchen, drink in hand, leaning heavily against the wall. Several men were near him, one with a hand on his shoulder.

As I crossed the floor to him, he looked up and saw me. His eyes lit up as he levered off the wall, putting his drink down before he brushed by the others to reach me. He could have waited, but he didn’t, meeting me halfway instead.

“Holy shit, Web.” He smiled wide, his eyes glittering. “You’re breathtaking.”

“You’re drunk.” I laughed softly, reaching out, my hand moving to the back of his neck, my fingers sliding under the open collar of his dress shirt as I drew him forward. The look on his face, the hooded eyes, made my stomach hurt. He was just beautiful. “Can I kiss you?”

“Really?” He asked because normally public displays were not within my comfort zone.

“No