Her eyes wander to my left hand, unsurprised by the simple white gold band still locked in place. In return, my eyes glance towards her empty left hand, where I haven’t seen an engagement ring or wedding band since I’ve been home. I frown.
A question’s hung in my mind for months now. It’s on the tip of my tongue, but there’s no way I’d ask it in front of so many people.Was I that bad to be married to?I’m sure she’d say yes. I’m not ready for a rundown of what a loser I am, though. The truth is, I should have never married her in the first place. I was never smart enough for her and should have known better. I guess I thought amazing sex and total devotion could make up for my lack of education. Just like I thought the ridiculously good money I made as a PMC in combat zones would make up for my long absences. I was misguided on both counts.
“I don’t need your protection,” Izzie replies, raising her chin defiantly.
She always knows what to say to piss me off. But I’m not falling for it this time. Instead of devolving into another argument, I reply quietly, “You’re the mother of my children, so you’ll always have my protection. No matter what. And now,so will the multi-million-dollar museum collection you’re in charge of. Ormsby Security won’t let anything happen to it.”
The younger man listens raptly to our conversation, hanging back slightly. I don’t miss the way his hand comes up to grab her elbow again. I could break his fucking pencil neck between my thumb and forefinger, and I don’t hide the smile this thought elicits. But I’m sure he makes up for what he lacks in brawn in intellectual prowess, an area I’ll forever remain outgunned and outmanned.
Turning towards the man, Izzie introduces, “This is Dr. Richard Fairfield. He’s an associate professor in the Anthropology Department at Sac State. He’s been coming over to help organize the Native American basket collection.”
Izzie’s a PhD candidate in the same department. A picture of what’s going on becomes more apparent by the minute, sickening me. “That’s some drive, Dick,” I reply, using every ounce of self-control to steady my voice. If he draws any closer to her and makes one more move on my wife, all bets are off, though. My glare says it all, and Izzie’s face blanches. The bumbling professor doesn’t take a hint, though. He and I are going to tangle before this winter’s over.
Leaning forward, he offers his hand, and I accept it without hesitation, gripping it so tightly I hear his knuckles crack.That’s right, motherfucker. I’m not the man you want to mess with.
I might feel sorry for him if he wasn’t in such close proximity to the one woman my world revolves around. I let his hand go right at the point where the grimace on his face turns to panic. He steps back quickly, visibly shaken and muttering trained pleasantries under his breath. I fucking hate him. I don’t know if it’s solely from seeing his hands on my wife or if there’s more to it, but I fucking hate him.
Chapter Three
IZZIE
In a deep growl that sends vibrations of desire through me, Wolfe asks, “Can I talk to you alone, Izzie? Outside?”
My body heats at the sound of his voice, like it always has. As if I’m attuned to his frequency. And the way the muscle in his jaw feathers underneath his afternoon stubble makes my pulse race. This is why I avoid him at all costs. Although my heart and mind are over him, my body hasn’t gotten the memo. I don’t think it ever will.
From the first time I saw him working security in Afghanistan, my flesh has always had a mind of its own around him. Even worse, I know he knows this. It makes being alone with him a perilous proposition. But if I’m going to work with him at the historical society, I need to establish clear boundaries and ground rules. Both of which I should start laying tonight.
He stands and saunters past me, waving over his shoulder for me to follow. Easily parting the crowd, he stands head and shoulders above everyone at six foot six inches tall. I followbehind, amused by how people crane their necks to gawk at him.
Many sneak second and third looks, trying to determine if he’s a famous football player or wrestler. He leads me down a dark alley to the side of the saloon, which I’d never enter alone. But Wolfe’s as lethal as they come. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Of course, his presence represents another kind of danger.
Leaning against the alley’s brick wall, he looks imposing, his eyes restlessly scanning the area for any sign of trouble. His body is tense, ready to spring into action at the slightest trigger. But now, he crosses his thick, corded arms over his chest, taking me in with an unreadable face. A black thermal shirt hugs every angular muscle in his chest, shoulders, and arms. Khaki pants emphasize his muscular thighs and ass.
I want to tell him everything going on at the museum. And I open my mouth to start before thinking better of it and pressing my lips tightly together. I can’t risk it yet. Besides, I need him to come to the same conclusion I have on his own. With the nature of the accusations I’m contemplating, I need complete assurance I’m seeing things accurately.
Instead, he blindsides me. “Who are the kids with right now?”
Irrational guilt stings me even though I know I haven’t done anything wrong. I reply in a tense tone, “They’re at the ranch with Grandpa Wyatt, Birdie, and Zane.”
“I thought we agreed that the other had first right of refusal anytime one of us couldn’t watch Matt and Stasia. Am I wrong?” His voice is steely.
Swallowing hard, I reply, “Yes, we did. But obviously, you’re busy tonight, too. Besides, what’s wrong with having the kids at your dad’s house?”
He shrugs. “I just want to know what’s going on. That’sall. Especially with Christmas coming up soon. I don’t want to miss anything with them.”
My eyes narrow, and a flash of anger sears me. If only he’d had that attitude before we separated, we’d still be together. I shrug. “Not so long ago, you didn’t give a damn about all of the stuff you missed out on. It never even crossed your mind. Because your career always came before everything else, including our marriage and family.”
“You wanted me to change, and I’ve changed. Instead of seeing me for who I am now, you keep holding my past over me. It’s not fair, Izzie.”
Bitterness floods me, and I shake my head. “Too little, too late, Wolfe. Are you forgetting I was a single mother for the first six years of our son’s life and the first four years of our daughter’s life? I gave up my career, my ambitions, everything so that you could run around playing mercenary or whatever it is you actually do.”
“When the good guys need help with the bad guys, they call me. It’s that simple.”
I notice his use of the present tense. A sickening feeling overtakes me. He’s still involved in clandestine operations. He’s been home for three months without traveling for more than a few days at a time, a first for him. At least since I’ve known him. But I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Of course, I’ll never know for sure what he does for a living, apart from lying to me. How a marriage can last under those circumstances, I don’t know.
Wolfe counters, “You liked the money as much as I did, and it let me give you and the kids the lives you deserve.” He raises his hand to rub his neck, looking to the side. He always does this when he’s frustrated. I watch his golden-green eyes narrow when he trains his gaze on me again.
“We deserved a life with you,” I reply almost inaudibly.
