She doesn’t explain her words. Instead, she pays for her groceries and then grabs ahold of her cart and marches on out of the store. I watch her for a moment, wondering exactly what she was talking about. Maybe I should know, or maybe it doesn’t matter.
She’s right though. The world is changing. Some days it feels like it’s for the worse and other days, like today, it surprises the shit out of me.
I continue checking out customers until a familiar pair of green eyes meet mine at the end of my conveyor belt. I watch for a moment as he loads the belt up with enough food to feed an army.
“This is a lot,” I point out as I begin to scan his items.
He grins, his eyes looking directly into my own. “You’re almost off, right?”
Nodding, I keep going, punching in the numbers for all his fruits and vegetables as I weigh them. “Fifteen minutes, you’re my last customer then I’m counting out and I’m done for the day.”
“Good, we’re taking half of this to your place, then the other half to mine. You working the club tonight?”
I pause, my eyes lifting from my machine to meet his. “Half of this is going to my place?” I whisper.
“Baby, if I’m there, I want to be able to make you breakfast in the morning,” he simply states. “It’s fucking selfish as shit. I’m apparently fighting in a few months and I need to start training again. I have to start back on my regimented diet.”
He says the words, but his gaze looks blank. Frowning, I decide not to question him right here in the middle of HEB. Instead, I just continue to check him out, scanning his fruit, veggies, chicken, turkey, and eggs. So many eggs.
“Are you workin’ tonight?” he asks again.
My shoulder jerks and I nod once. “Yeah, I’m supposed to,” I say.
“But?”
I bite the corner of my lip and shrug a shoulder. “You don’t want me to quit?” I ask.
He snorts. “Fuck yeah, I do. Am I going to make you? No. You got your reasons and I really fucking respect them. We can talk in-depth if you want to quit, but if you want to keep doin’ that, you can keep on, baby. I’ll be right there making sure you’re safe though.”
“You will?” I breathe.
His green eyes twinkle. “That bouncer and security is shit. Plus, seeing you up there is no fucking hardship. Hot as hell, my Tullie is.”
I can feel my face heat, it turns bright red, I just know it. Lifting my hands to my cheeks, I feel them and sure enough, they’re warm. “Okay, Louie,” I whisper.
He grins as I finish ringing up his items. I give him his total, he pays, and a few moments later we’re walking out of the grocery store, together, hand-in-hand as he pushes his buggy with his free hand. I feel like we’re a real couple, like I’m living in a dream state. I’m afraid to pinch myself for fear of waking up from this moment.
Chapter Nine
LOUIS
I have every intention of being a gentleman this evening. The last thing I need to do is fuck Tulip senseless before sending her off to work on a pole. Though, it’s tempting as fuck, sending her to Headlights smelling like me—like us.
Firing up my grill, I throw two chicken breasts and a ribeye on along with a basket full of squash, bell peppers, cauliflower and broccoli. Inside Tulip is making some brown rice and garlic bread. The bread is for her, the rest of the food is for us.
I suppose if I’m being forced to fight again, I may as well start getting back on track eating-wise. Using the tongs, I flip the meat with a heavy sigh.
“You look tired, and like the weight of the world rests solely on your shoulders,” Tulip’s sweet voice calls out.
Turning my head slightly, I look back at her over my shoulder. She’s got her makeup plastered on heavily and her normally straight hair is curled and teased. She’s halfway to stripper Tullie.
Inside, I’m fighting the urge to force her to stay home. But, I know without a doubt that isn’t what she wants or needs from me right now.
She’s trying to gain her footing, better herself in life. I can’t take that away from her, I fucking refuse. I won’t be this man who forces her to do shit, who holds her back, who uses her the way that Joey did, the way that my stepfather uses my mother. Fuck that goddamn shit.
I’m going to be better than every other man in her world. Better than the men in mine. I’m going to be like Wyatt, Rylan, and Beau. Those are the men that I aspire to be when it comes to Tulip and to fucking life.
“Sometimes it is,” I murmur after a moment of silence.
She nods, then takes a step toward me, then another until she’s against my back. Her arms slide around my waist and her lips touch my shoulder. I can feel her warmth through my shirt and I wish that I wasn’t wearing one so that I could feel her against my skin.
“What’s wrong?” she asks sweetly.
“I’m going to be fighting in a couple months. My team is putting together the schedule, but they all think it’s time for me to fulfill my contractual obligations,” I admit.
There’s a moment of silence. I should tell her right now about Antoni, about how my fist sent him to meet his maker. I assume that she knows, but judging by the confused look on her face, maybe she doesn’t.
“Do you need a break?” she asks quietly.
Turning slightly to face her, I wrap one of my arms around her back and pull her close to my chest. “Yeah, Tullie. I need a fuckin’ break,” I breathe.
She tilts her head back to look up at me, her eyes so fucking bright and beautiful as she searches my face for an answer. I want to tell her everything, every fucking thing that she wants to know about me, about my life. But I don’t want to see the pity in her face, the sadness at knowing what has happened in my life.
“Maybe after these fights you can get that break? Renegotiate?” she so innocently suggests.
Sliding my hand up her back, I tangle it in her teased out blonde locks as I dip my head to touch my mouth to hers. “Yeah, baby,” I rasp against her lips before I sweep my tongue into her mouth, tasting her.
Slowly, I lift my head, releasing her and turn back to the grill. Everything is almost ready. Tulip doesn’t leave as I put everything inside of the metal pan next to the grill. Shutting everything down, I take the pan and head inside.
She follows me, but I can feel her questions hanging in the air, on the tip of her tongue. I don’t want to demand that she ask them. I honestly want to live in a bubble for a while longer. Eventually she’ll find out the truth about me, about the man that she let inside of her body.
Then she’ll have to make a decision. Can she sleep with a killer? Can she fall in love with one? Can she fall in love with me?
The table is set with dishes, silverware, and glasses of water. Silently, we plate our food, then sit down across from one another at my eight-seat dining room table. It’s fucking ridiculous since I’m a bachelor, but the interior designer that I hired from the furniture store a couple towns over claimed that it was a necessity.
“What time do you get off tonight?” I ask after the silence has become unbearable.
Tulip lifts her gaze to meet mine and I decide that I hate her heavy makeup. Her eyes have taken on a different shade of blue and she hides her thoughts from me. It’s as if the makeup puts on a complete mask over every part of her.