Chapter 17
Malone and I froze.
“We’re going to ignore that,” I whispered.
“Great idea,” he whispered back. “Where were we?”
“Your Social Security number.”
“Right, right. Five four six—”
“Stella, open up now. I know you’re in there.”
I flinched at the sound of that voice. The Douchecanoe had found me once again.
“The ex?” Malone asked, one eye fire and the other ice.
I nodded, and he jumped up from the couch. I was gratified to see the tent in his pants. Too old to be a honeypot, my not-so-decrepit ass!
But my joy was short-lived as I pieced together the gravity of the situation in light of our previous handshake agreement. “Malone, don’t!”
“Just a talk, man to man,” he said, even though the set of his jaw suggested otherwise.
As I scrambled to hook my bra and throw my shirt back on, several things happened all at once: Malone opened the door.
Ken took one step in. Malone punched him.
Ken fell backward into the breezeway. Malone slammed the door before turning to me.
“Wait. Why is your shirt back on? You’re not getting the rest of my social until you are as naked as the day you were born. ”
“I can’t believe you just . . .”
“We shook on it, Stark. I take my obligations very seriously.”
My God, that’s so hot.
A rage-filled roar came from the other side of the door. “Open up now or I’m calling the police!”
“Now you’ve done it,” I said as I walked to the door, trying not to look at the bulge in his pants.
I opened the door but blocked entry. “What do you want?”
Ken worked his jaw back and forth, and my emotions fluctuated between giddiness that Malone had socked him and disappointment he hadn’t busted Ken’s nose.
“I need the flash drive that’s also a voice recorder.”
“I don’t have it.”
“You have to have it,” he said. “I can’t find it anywhere.”
I leaned back and crossed my arms over my chest. “My days of finding things for you are over. If you’ve lost it, then you put it in the wrong place. I took nothing that wasn’t mine.”
“Except the car.”
“The car is mine. I’ve made all the payments.”
He didn’t argue with me for once.
And he wasn’t wearing his wedding ring.
“You’re looking good, Stel,” he said in his cajoling tone. Was there already trouble in paradise? Was he really hitting on me after getting punched in the face? He had to be some kind of confidence incubus. He’d taken all mine, and now he had a surplus he didn’t deserve.
I said nothing, a trick I’d learned, quite ironically, from him.
“Already got a new boyfriend?”
Malone now stood behind me, and I was glad for his presence, especially when he grabbed the kitten before she could run out the door.
“And a cat?”
If I continued to stare at him and blink, he would eventually spill his real reason for being there, this I knew.
“Listen, things haven’t worked out with Eloise. It was all a big mistake. It’s time for you to come home.”
Still I stared. Sly sentence construction was doing a lot of work for Ken. Things didn’t work out. It was a mistake. Not that he had made a mistake, and because he wasn’t admitting his mistake, then there was no need for forgiveness. How convenient for him!
“No thank you. I’m good,” I said as I started to close the door.
He caught the door with his shoe. “Why don’t you come out here so we can talk without an audience?”
“No.”
“Stella, be reasonable,” he wheedled.
“Get your foot out of the way before I slam this door on it,” I said. “And don’t bother coming back. I didn’t give you my address for a reason.”
“Jeez, you don’t have to be a bitch about it.”
Once again, Malone moved with the stealth and speed of a cheetah. Before I could formulate a reply, he’d pressed the kitten into my arms and brushed past me to take Ken by his collar and shove him against the opposite wall.
“I’m going to use small words in short sentences so you can understand,” he said. “‘No’ means ‘no.’ The lady said to leave. Don’t come back. Insult her again, and you will regret it.”
“Whoa, calm down, big fella,” Ken wheezed. I was familiar with his “just one of the guys” routine, but I didn’t think it was going to work as well as he hoped. “Really got you by the balls, doesn’t she? I mean, it’s a sweet piece of ass, but she’s still a—”
Malone’s fist connected with Ken’s nose, proving that wishes sometimes came true. Ken cried out in pain and fell to the ground.
As much as I liked to consider myself a liberated, independent woman, I had to admit I took great joy in having someone defend me.
“Know what? You need to go home and thank your lucky stars for the years you were privileged enough to live with this lady,” Malone said. “Because memories are all you’re getting.”
“Can I at least get a towel and some ice?” asked Ken from behind his blood-soaked hand.
“No,” Malone and I said in unison.
“You’re still not getting the title to the car,” he said, struggling to get to his feet.
“Whatever,” I muttered, my spirits deflated.
Ten minutes later, the mood had been effectively killed. Why? Because I knew cuts on the hand from punches to the nose or mouth could cause gnarly bacterial infections. The minute I had seen the cut on Malone’s fist, I’d dragged him to the bathroom and commenced first aid.
Sexy nurse, I was not. More like Nurse Ratched.
“Stark, believe it or not, this isn’t the first time I’ve punched someone,” he protested.
“Well, it was very sweet of you, but please don’t do it again. My father once—”
I stopped.
“Your father what?”
I took a deep breath. “One of my few memories of my father is when he punched a guy in a bar fight. His hand got severely infected, and we had to take him to the emergency room. They ended up keeping him in the hospital for almost a week with an antibiotic IV drip.”
“That must’ve been awful.”
And that’s not even the half of it.
“Yeah, well, if you knew him, then you’d know that was a very logical consequence for him.” My own bitterness startled me, but it shouldn’t have. Discussing my father always seemed to bring that emotion out of me.
Malone studied me, wise enough to say nothing.
“Thank you, though,” I said.
“It was my pleasure.”
“I mean, I can defend myself, you know.”
“Oh, I know. I saw the video where you did that impressive leg sweep,” Malone said.
I looked away, my cheeks warm.
“Hey, Stark.”
I forced myself to meet his gaze.
“Just because you can defend yourself doesn’t mean you have to,” he said. “At least, not all the time.”
His good hand cupped my cheek, and I leaned into his warm touch.
I bit my lip, considering a return to where we’d left off. After all, I had only the first three digits of his social. I didn’t need them, but I hated to leave things unfinished.
Unfortunately, my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. Satisfied that I’d cleaned up Malone’s cuts as best I could, I washed my hands, then checked my phone. Havisham was having a flying duck fit because I had clients to see.
Of course, she’d understand if I told her what Malone and I were up to.
But now that the heat of the moment had cooled, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go down that road.
A coward? Maybe.
“I gotta go,” I said with a deep sigh. “Mulligan on cashing in my benefits?”
His eyes were flashing, smoldering, or both. “I’m gonna hold you to it.”
I followed him, intending to leave as he did. He paused at the tiny table by the door where I’d placed Mrs. Q’s copy of Daring Greatly. “This is a really good book.”
My insides froze. What was it I’d so blithely said about how my perfect dude wouldn’t be afraid to read a self-help book?
“Mrs. Q suggested I read it.”
He paused in the breezeway while I locked my apartment door.
“Thanks again,” I said, suddenly feeling shy.
“There’s nothing to thank me for,” he said. “You just let me know when you’re ready for that mulligan.”