“I think we all want that deep down,” Hilary said. Her brow was furrowed, and a thoughtful expression lined her delicate features. “There’s no shame in that.”
“We’re always here for you, Jul, you know that.” Evonne leaned in and she found herself in the epicenter of a much needed group hug.
“I know. I just hate the weakness. How long will it take for me to heal?” Disgusted by her hang-ups, she shook her head. The girls had seen her at her lowest but she hated displaying it.
“As long as it takes. One day at a time, remember?” Hil whispered.
“Right.” Juliette took a cleansing breath. She’d come a long way from constant panic attacks.
* * * * *
The sound of someone rapping on her door woke her from her slumber. Juliette rolled onto her side, grabbed her phone and pressed a button to illuminate the screen. One o’clock. Grunting, she pushed back the sheets and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Half asleep, she stumbled out of the room and down the dimly lit hallway. She flipped the switch on the porch light to reveal Shooter. Unlocking the door, she pulled it open and offered a sleepy smile. “Hey.”
“Did I wake you?” He handed her a blue flower and she smiled.
“Mhmm. The girls left around eleven. Did you borrow this from someone’s yard?”
“Nope, found it on your doorstep. I think you got a neighbor kid with a crush.” He chuckled. He took and twirled the spiky blue flower with a brilliant yellow center around on his fingers.
Thoughts of the blue flowers a couple weeks prior made her frown. They’d been forget me nots. Was this the same person? She ran through her neighbors with children one by one. “ I hope not, my youngest neighbor kid is probably about sixteen.”
“Old enough to get told to back off then.”
She giggled. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Don’t women want a man who’ll fight for them?”
He followed her inside, locked the door behind him and walked into the kitchen and dropped the flower in the garbage. The action pleased her more than it should. He took the alpha male thing seriously. And I love every minute of it. He returned and pulled her to his body, cupping her ass. “I like the thought of you at home, warm and cozy, waiting for me.” He tasted of alcohol and him, a masculine flavor that went straight to her head like champagne. “Last night I didn’t get to see you the way I want to. Tonight I want to examine every inch of you.” Pushing her back against the wall, he licked his lips. “You wear that shirt better than I ever did. I think you should keep it.” He quirked an eyebrow. “What’s on your head?”
“A sleep cap. It protects my hair from breakage when I sleep.”
“That’s new,” Shooter said. His brow furrowed and he studied her with a curious expression she found adorable.
“If you’ve never seen one of these, I’m guessing you’ve never dated a black woman.” She arched an eyebrow.
“I haven’t dated any woman for a long time, baby. You know that.” Shadows moved forward in his eyes and he looked away. She wanted to ask him why, but one in the morning the night they’d first met didn’t seem like the right time.
“Until me?”
“Yes, until you.” His gruff response made her smile. He made her feel wanted. It was an addictive emotion. Why? They’d yet to go into details about their pasts, but she couldn’t demand from him what she hadn’t revealed herself. Reaching up, he found the bow that held the silk scarf and began to unwrap the length of black material.
The gentle touch surprised her. No, not gentle—precise. It made her wonder what he’d done before he’d become a Lord. He tucked the scarf in his pocket and scooped her into his arms bridal-style. She felt downright petite.
“Before the Lords, what did you do?” She peered up at him, watching his face harden.
“That was random.”
“I know. You should be used to that by now.” She shrugged. “You give me free rein to ask whatever I want. I’m going to use it.”
He laughed. “Good point. I was in the Marine Corps for eight years.”
“Ahhh. I’m guessing you worked with guns.”
“Yeah, I was a specialist.”
She saw shadows in his eyes. There was more to the story.
Shooter inclined his head. “Bed?”