Page 25 of Rough Return

And damned if he could figure out what happened in the last ten minutes that made her so sad.

Grier was MIA again. He’d gone on overnight runs, multi-state runs to escort cargo, and he’d taken to speaking to her through Sage. Not that she didn’t like Sage, he was okay as far as guys who weren’t Grier went, but dammit, she hadn’t married Sage. Hadn’t been given a year to make a baby with Sage.

Tyler popped a hip onto the corner of her desk. “What’s up today, boss lady?”

She pulled papers from under his ass, crinkled papers now, and smoothed them with her hand before shoving them into a folder. “Couple of deliveries tonight. We’ll need to make sure the boys are in the yard. Four for each truck.”

Usually, as soon as she spoke, he beelined to carry out her orders. Now he sat as comfortable as if she’d provided an easy chair with a remote control and a cold beer. “Your husband’s back.”

He’d been back a hundred times. Left a hundred, too. “So?”

“Does that mean I’m sleeping on the back porch so you and lover boy can have a reunion special in the house?” His smirk said he knew the answer.

She’d been meaning to speak to him about their “living” arrangements. “You don’t have to stay anymore. I think the worst is passed. The guys seem okay now.”

“Yeah. The dissension in the ranks seems to have dissipated.” He picked up a pen and twirled it between his fingers. “Were you really worried about one of your own men trying to take you down?”

She wasn’t going to tell him her real motives for having him there. No reason to.

As she sat pretending to ignore him, he reached to brush her hair back from her forehead. “Fiona, you’re too young and beautiful to be stuck in some dead-end marriage to a guy who’d rather leave you home alone every night than make you feel like his woman.” He stood and pulled her against him. He smelled like exhaust fumes and cologne. “If you were mine…”

“Cozy.”

The voice came from the doorway, a voice Fiona missed. She pushed Tyler away and sat back in her chair. Tyler smiled down at her. “I’ll go tell Nate about tonight.”

She nodded and cleared her throat as he smirked and walked past Grier.

The bags under Grier’s eyes spoke to his late nights. “I gotta say, babe. You can do better. Your boyfriend is skeevy.”

“And my husband doesn’t want me.” The words burned in her throat. Not as much as his barely veiled accusation. He sat in the chair across her desk and stared at her until she felt the urge to squirm. “He’s not my boyfriend.” Grier cocked an eyebrow. “If he was, would you be jealous?”

Oh, God. Why had she asked that? The answer had the potential to kill her. Either way.

“I don’t share.”

Wasn’t that a joke. “You’d have to have had me to share me.”

“You’re my wife.” His voice was low. Dangerous. The Grier she remembered from long ago.

“Convenient of you to remember.” If she sounded bitter, which she did, he was the one to blame. All she’d wanted was a few nights with happy endings, maybe a baby, and he’d ruined it all. Smashed her dreams like he’d smashed her TV.

“Oh, Fifi. I never forgot.”

She sighed. On an ordinary day, she wouldn’t have asked, wouldn’t have cared, but she hadn’t slept in what felt like months. “Why’d you marry me, Grier?”

“Why’d you bring me back here?”

“To marry me. Ironic, huh?” She chuckled, but there was nothing funny about this.

“What is?”

And oh, for the love of God. Did he really have to use that soft, sweet tone? The one he’d used to comfort her after Max died? It made hating him difficult. “On that flight to Belize, I hated you. I’d told Max you were the only one I would consider, but I knew. No way would I go through with it.” She shook her head, unable and maybe unwilling to stop now. “I had this fantasy about us when I was younger. And I really thought I outgrew it. But then you came walking out of that gate, confident and so sure of yourself. I was seventeen again. I might have actually heard the wedding march in my head, maybe I even saw myself in the white dress with you waiting for me, so happy to be with me.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “If I’d known being married to you would be like this, I probably would have readjusted my fantasy.”

“Probably?”

“Don’t do that.” Every time he spoke in that deep, sexy tone, a part of her hoped he meant it. A part of her wanted it to mean something more than it did.

“Do what?”