The night I spent with Asa at his terrible little apartment was the most sleep I had gotten in over a month. It was only a few hours and I was worn out from the seriously intense sex. Still, the dreams had left me alone, making the anxiety that was crawling along my insides take a backseat to all the other exhilarating and complicated things he made me feel. I hadn’t stopped by the Bar or called him in over a week. I didn’t really know what to say to him or how to approach him after our intense night together. I understood he thought I was just after him for a thrill, that I was just trying to let off steam and play around with something that should be forbidden, but that wasn’t the case. I more than wanted him. I was pretty sure I needed him and I was pretty sure he needed me, too. As much as his life had changed, as much as he had changed, he needed someone he could let the leash off with. I wasn’t scared of the Asa that lurked behind the veil. In fact I craved him. I wanted to be a safe place for him, but given my career choice, I didn’t know if that was even a possibility.
The shrink’s office was in LoDo and the police station was up in Capitol Hill, so I had to drive. If it wasn’t winter I would’ve just walked, since the station was so close to the Victorian, but it was cold and I didn’t want to be late. My new partner was pretty laid-back, a rock-steady cop, but he was a huge stickler about punctuality. I was just getting out into the midday traffic and humming along to One Direction on the radio when my phone rang from where I’d tossed it on the passenger’s seat. I loved some Justin Timberlake and I loved that when he sang to me it meant my mom was calling me. She seemed to have an uncanny ability to know right when I was on the brink and at my most raw. She was checking up on me and I needed her to after that visit with the shrink. My mother had always just accepted me for whatever and whoever I was. She had never pushed, never tried to guide me one way or the other, and I kind of needed that cushion after that soul-stripping session with the psychiatrist.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Royal! I haven’t talked to you in forever. How are you? How is Dominic doing?”
Forever was only four or five days, but she liked to keep tabs on me. I grumbled a little, fished my sunglasses out of the cup holder, and slapped them on my face. “I’ve been busy. Sorry I didn’t call. Going back to work as well as adjusting to a new partner has been keeping me on my toes, and Dom is fine. He’s going stir-crazy and I think he’s lost about twenty pounds of muscle and gained five pounds of facial hair. His sisters are taking good care of him.”
She made a high-pitched noise of sympathy and I could almost see her clutching her throat in a dramatic way. My mom was nothing if not over-the-top.
“That’s wonderful news that you’re settling back in work, honey. What’s the new partner like? Is he handsome?”
Ultimately, as much as she loved me, that was what it always came down to with my mom, a man. She never would understand how I was okay being single. How finding someone to be with had never been a priority for me like it had been for her.
“He’s married.”
“So?”
I groaned out loud. “Mom, that right there is why you have to keep a divorce attorney on retainer. Married is off-limits.” Sometimes I felt like I was talking to someone my own age and not a grown-ass woman that should know better. If she had simply followed the rules in the first place, she wouldn’t have ever thought my father was going to leave his wife and kids for us.
She laughed a little. “I think married and happily married are two different things. Besides, I haven’t been fishing in that river for some time and you know it.”
She didn’t need to remind me. Her last catch had been a wealthy real-estate magnate that believed in true love and had been foolish enough not to make my mother sign a prenup. After a quickie wedding and an even quicker divorce, my mom was rolling in the greenbacks and dating young studs that were closer to my age than her own. She had drifted firmly into cougar territory, and in her typical careless fashion didn’t care about how that made her look or how it might make me feel. Sometimes I wondered if she was acting so outlandishly just for the attention. I couldn’t see her as much or spend as much time with her now that I was working full-time and had actually gone out in the world and made a friend or two. My mother didn’t do well when she was lonely.
“With you I never know.” I never wanted her near a married man again.
“So with the new partner being off-limits, I don’t suppose you’re out there meeting anyone. You know I worry that you’re going to end up all alone and not find anyone to make me beautiful grandchildren with.”
I swore at her and she laughed. “Mom, seriously?”
“I mean it. You aren’t getting any younger and your job is very dangerous, young lady. You need to find a husband before you get old or injured. I want you to be happy and have what I never did.”
“You know you’re crazy, right?” I didn’t need a man to be happy, not that I would run the other way if a certain blond sex god suddenly declared his undying love for me, but still I had plenty of time to worry about stuff like forever after. She would never understand that, though.
“That isn’t how you should talk to your mother.”
I groaned again and pulled into the parking lot for the police station. I settled my hat on my head and looked at myself in the rearview mirror. The shrink was right. I looked like I had twin black eyes and my pallor was straight-up waxy and gross.
“There’s this guy.” I was going to regret telling her anything, I just knew it. “He’s different. I like him a lot but he makes it hard.” He really did. Having feelings for someone shouldn’t feel like so much of a battle.
She squealed loudly and I had to hold the phone away from my ear. “What’s he like? What’s he do? Does he come from money?”
I made sure I had my keys and everything I was going to need before hopping out of the SUV and slamming the door shut behind me with more force than necessary.
“He’s tricky and smart. He’s prettier than me and he knows it. He’s charming when he wants to be. He’s southern and—” She cut me off before I could tell her that he also had the most wonderful whiskey-colored eyes, which were richer than all the money in the world, and that he was a bartender.
“Ohhhhh … southern boys are the best. All they need to do is say your name with that drawl and it’s love. Maybe he comes from old money.”
Who said things like that in this day and age? I rolled my eyes and pulled open the front doors of the station. “Mom, I’m at work, so I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“Love you. Stay safe.”