“Oh, brought your new toy for safekeeping. Can I take a look at it?”
“Sure.”
She opened the case, gasping. Yeah, I was proud of it too. Some people collected cars. I had a weakness for guitars. This one was a brand-new electric model. The sound was sleek, with a smooth undertone.
“Ryker Winchester, you’re always full of surprises. Love how you always change things up. You’ve never brought an electric one before,” she murmured. I liked challenging myself—it gave me something to look forward to.
“I’ll play on it this week.”
“Want to take the old one back?”
“No, leave it here too. I’ll just switch things up from time to time.”
“Want a beer?”
“Sure!”
She filled a pint glass with draft beer, sliding it to me. Before I took the first sip, a raised voice reached me.
“For fuck’s sake, you’re not my wife. You’re not even my girlfriend anymore, so none of that is my responsibility.”
I looked around for the source. What douchebag spoke like that to anyone? I located him a few feet away, and the woman he was talking to. She had round eyes and dark brown hair. Damn, she was beautiful. Her shoulders were hunched, and her gaze darted to the nearby patrons apologetically.
I left my beer on the counter and marched toward them.
“Apologize to the lady,” I said, voice calm and collected.
“What the fuck is your problem?” the guy asked.
“My problem is that you’re a douchebag. Apologize to her.”
Up close, she was even more beautiful—full lips, wide, green eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, but next thing I knew, Douchebag pushed me into the crowd behind us that was waiting to order a drink.
They moved out of my way but someone’s shoulder brushed my cheek in the process. My elbow hit the pint, sending it flying over my brand-new guitar. Beer spilled all over it. Rose threw napkins at me, and I wiped the liquid off immediately, but I knew some of it had reached the electric circuits. Fuck.
I inspected the strings, but it was impossible to tell the extent of the damage. When I finally lifted my head, I realized Douchebag wasn’t in his spot anymore.
“Gil threw him out,” Rose explained. Gil was the security guy. I looked around, trying to locate the woman who’d been with him, but she was nowhere to be found. Damn. I really wanted to make sure she was alright.
“That thing still working?” Rose asked, pointing to the guitar. The surface was sticky from the beer.
“I don’t know. I’ll take it to my repair guy, see what he has to say.”
“This sucks. Brand-new and all. Are you hurt?”
“I’m okay. Do you know them? The couple?”
“No.”
“So they’re not regulars?”
What I really wanted to ask was if she wasn’t a regular, even though I already knew the answer. I would’ve remembered seeing her before if she was.
“No. I have a good memory. They haven’t been here before. Want some ice for that cheek? You’ll have a bruise tomorrow.”
I groaned. She was right. I could feel the skin around it pulsing. “Ice sounds good. Thanks.”
At thirty, I was already one of the youngest investment directors in the company, and my youth usually worked against me. I balanced it out with an all-encompassing knowledge of the market and an enviable track record. A bruised cheek would earn me no favors with the clients who trusted me to handle their million-dollar portfolios.
Grabbing the bucket Rose handed me and placing the damaged guitar back in the case, I headed to one of the couches in the corner. Even though I knew it was pointless, I looked around the bar again. She hadn’t left with him, had she? It had sounded as if he was ditching her. In public. I detested men who had no sense of responsibility or respect.
I held ice to my cheek for the rest of the evening... and made plans to find this mystery woman I couldn’t stop thinking about.
Chapter Two
Heather
“Mommy, it says on the box number thirty-eight?” My seven-year-old pointed her tiny finger to the numbers I’d scribbled on the box with silver marker.
“Yes.”
“Does that mean we’re done?”
I grinned. I’d told her that we’d stop after unpacking the thirty-eighth box, and she’d been paying attention.
“Yeah, we are.”
Avery squealed. I lowered myself to my haunches, and she threw her arms around my neck. I couldn’t explain it, but Avery simply smelled like love. My little girl was like my own personal sunshine. Blonde and blue-eyed, she looked like a little angel.
“Can we have a bubble bath now?” she asked.
“Sure, little bug.”
Our apartment had two bedrooms and a tiny living room. It was in a converted refurbished warehouse. I loved the huge windows. They allowed in plenty of light on sunny days. We’d moved here a week ago, hence all the unpacked boxes. We opened six boxes every night, and we still had a pile in the kitchen, which was also my office. As a reporter, I worked from home a lot, only traveling to my office in Manhattan if I had a meeting.
We headed to the bathroom, and while the water level rose in the tub, we had fun pouring all the almost-empty shampoo and shower gels in it, and a package of glittery goo with a unicorn on it. I had no idea how easy it was to scrub off, but my girl needed some glitter in her life, and honestly, so did I.
After Gerald dropped the bomb on me, I took Avery shopping and explained that our apartment would be an all-girl zone. That led to us buying all manner of glittery items such as nail polish, bath salts, lip gloss, and bedsheets. Since it was March, we got everything at an end-of-winter sale. I loved our purchases just as much as Avery.
The second I turned off the faucet, Avery jumped inside, splashing water everywhere. Laughing, I slipped inside too.
“We have our own small pool,” Avery exclaimed. We’d only had a shower at the old apartment. “Can we have a glitter bath every night?”
Ah, my girl had many talents. As much as I liked to say she was an angel, she could also be a little devil. She knew exactly when to ask for things, but I’d learned how to say no.
“Not every evening, but once in a while, we can do this.”
She perked up, her eyes wide. “YES!” After a few beats of silence, she added, “Mommy, Gerald isn’t coming back, is he?”
My heart sank. Did Avery miss him?
“No, baby. He’s not.”
“I like it when it’s just the two of us, Mommy.”
I barely resisted the urge to hug the living daylights out of her.
“I like it too, little bug. I like it too. It’s just the two of us now, baby.”
And I’d keep it that way.
After putting Avery to bed, I headed to the kitchen, microwaving popcorn and pouring myself a glass of wine. Dinner of champions. I sat at the round kitchen table, glancing around our new home.
Seven days ago, Gerald called, saying he needed to talk to me about something important. I was in the middle of coordinating movers and ordering furniture and hadn’t stopped to think about what that might be. Honestly, I’d just been happy that he was finally going to be in New York for longer than a few days. He was a tour guide and led groups around the world.