Ultimate Fear (Book 2 Ultimate CORE) (CORE Series) (34 page)

“But you’re making really good money,” she countered, while buttering her roll. “I think we should at least stay through the six-month lease.”

“No. I’m not budging on this. I want out.”

Although she smiled, he caught the worry in her eyes. “What if I like it here?”

He’d been following her around like a good dog for thirteen years. Never once during that time had she taken into consideration what
he
liked. “If I recall, I said I liked living in St. Joseph, and that didn’t matter to you.”

“You know we had no choice.”

“No, you made sure we had no choice when you told me to get rid of our son.”

She dropped her butter knife and, folding her arms across her chest, leaned back in her chair. “How could you throw our precious Elton in my face like that? I’ve grieved for that child and—”

“Grieved?” He shook his head. “No. You discarded him just like the others, because they no longer made you happy.”

She looked away. “You’re being very hurtful. I almost prefer the silent treatment you’ve been giving me all week to the way you’re talking to me now.”

“And again, I would have preferred to stay in St. Joseph with our
precious
Elton.” His appetite gone, he tossed his napkin on his plate and pushed the chair away from the table. “I want out of Chicago. I’ll work one more week. Once I get my paycheck next Friday, we’re leaving.”

“But what if I get a job?”

“Look for another one once we’re settled somewhere else.”

“Please, Wayne, let’s give Chicago a chance. I’ve always dreamed of living in a big city like this and I—”

Her ringing cell phone silenced her. She stood, grabbed it off the charger on the kitchen counter and smiled when she looked at the screen. “I think this is the store I applied to today,” she said, then answered her phone.

He didn’t care. The more he considered their options, leaving Chicago was the right move for them. They needed a clean start, and he needed for Dimples to live in a smaller community where there was less of a chance that she’d go on another baby hunt. His wife might be obsessed and passionate about having a baby, but she wasn’t
that
naïve. Both of them had grown up in a small town, and understood the lifestyle of a rural community. Gossip had always been a constant factor in Wauchula, Florida. She wouldn’t place herself in a position that would risk gossip, let alone their freedom.

Dimples ended the call and flashed him a big smile. “That was the manager I was hoping would call. He says he’s looking for an assistant manager for the evening shift and wants to meet with me tomorrow morning.” Still smiling, she let out a gusty sigh. “The job pays sixteen dollars an hour. I know it’s not ideal for me to work evenings and some weekends, but imagine the money we could save if we did stay in Chicago for six months. Plus, an assistant manager’s job would look great on my resume. When we move again, it might make it easier for me to get another job.” With excitement brightening her eyes, she pulled out a pen and sheet of paper from the kitchen drawer and began writing. “After taxes, that’s over an extra ten thousand dollars in our pocket.” She turned to him. “Think about that. Between what you’re making and what I could bring in, we’d have a lot of money to put down on a house, maybe even one with some acreage.”

She had a valid point, and he did want acres of land. The L chose that moment to practically run through their living room. Could he suffer through six months of living in the shitty apartment, of living in Chicago? He knew he could, and besides, with Dimples busy working, her mind would be on her job, not another baby. Plus, with her working evenings and him days, the next six months could serve as a cooling off period and give them both time to heal and mend their marriage.

“Okay,” he finally said, and stood.

“Really? You’re willing to stay?”

Thunder rumbled in the distance. He looked toward the window. Rain hit the glass and the sky grew dark, threatening. “As long as you get the job. If you somehow end up losing it, though, we’re leaving.”

She rushed to his side and hugged him. “Thank you, honey. I really think this is going to be good for us.” Still holding him, she leaned back. “Aren’t you going to hug me?”

Guilt ate at him. She looked so damned sweet and happy and…hurt. “I—” He set her away from him, just as it thundered again. “I need more time.”

“That couch can’t be comfortable,” she said, reaching for his belt buckle. “I miss having you in our bed.”

He stilled her hand. He’d missed sleeping with her, too. But he wasn’t ready to forgive her for what she’d done, not only to the woman, but to them. “I need to shower. I’ve got to be on a job site first thing tomorrow morning. We should both get to bed early. What time’s your interview?”

“Nine.”

Tempted to shower, then take his wife to bed and make love to her, he forced the thought of her ample body pressed against his from his mind and redirected it to tomorrow. The construction company he now worked for had him scheduled to work a job just outside the city. He had to be at the company warehouse by seven to pick up supplies and a coworker, then out in Oak Park by eight. “I’m going to be doing some roofing tomorrow. Have you seen my safety harness? The roof anchor and tether are missing, too.”

She turned her back and began cleaning the kitchen. “I didn’t touch any of your tools when I was packing up for the move. You know that. Maybe you misplaced it, or left it on a job site in Missouri.”

It had been a while since he’d needed to use the harness, and he hoped that he hadn’t left it behind. The kit had cost him almost two hundred dollars and he’d rather not have to replace it. Tired and not in the mood to look for it now, he’d use the company’s kit tomorrow and look through a few unopened boxes stored in the spare room when he came home in the evening.

In the meantime, he needed that shower, and maybe afterward, he’d have a beer and relax on the couch before falling asleep. The thought of spending another night on the couch didn’t appeal to him. The direction his marriage had taken wasn’t working for him, either.

Time. That’s all he needed. A little more time to overcome what Dimples had done. So long as she had a good job and no longer talked about finding herself another baby, he honestly believed they could go back to the way things were.

The dog breeder entered his mind. Her bloodied cut up stomach, her dead baby lying on her chest.

No. Nothing would ever be the same. But he’d vowed to love Dimples in good times or in bad, in sickness or in health.

And she had a sickness. Whether he could help her cure it or not, remained to be seen.

Chapter 13

OVER THE SOUND of the pounding rain, a car door slammed. Dante finished pouring the pasta sauce on top of the ricotta, mozzarella and parmesan stuffed shells, then sprinkled the cheese he’d set aside over the dish. After double-checking the temperature on the oven, he placed the casserole on the center rack, then washed his hands.

Since he’d heard the car door several minutes ago and the rain was coming down hard, but still with no sign of Jessica, he tossed the dish towel on the counter and headed for the front door. Through the beads of water on the glass he saw her hefting a box from the back of her SUV.

He rushed out to help her. “What’s all of this?” he asked, taking the box from her and glancing at the two others still in the back end of her vehicle.

She picked up a box and ran up the walkway to the house. “The rest of my stuff,” she called over her shoulder.

Her stuff? Hopeful, but wary, he dropped the box in the foyer, then went back to the car for the last one. Jessica was right behind him, but stopped, opened the back passenger door and pulled out a bunch of clothes still on their hangers.

His hope intensified, but once they were back in the house, he couldn’t bring himself to ask the simple question.

Are you home for good?

He didn’t want to be disappointed and let the wrong answer ruin the evening he had planned for them.

“Holy crap, there was more at the apartment than I thought,” she said, taking off her wet jacket, then unclipping the custom fit, body band gun holster he’d bought her for her birthday a couple of years ago. Perspiration darkened her light blue shirt where the holster bands had fit snug. Droplets of water ran from her hair and made her face shiny. She wiped at her cheeks, then slipped out of her shoes. “Ah, that’s better. And I’m
so
glad you turned on the AC this morning. I was hoping the rain would help with the humidity, but I don’t think we’re going to be so lucky.”

Running a hand through his damp hair, he looked away from her and to the boxes and clothes. “Dinner’s in the oven and won’t be ready for about ninety minutes.”

“Perfect. I’m going to take a quick shower.” She took the clothes with her and went upstairs.

As he watched her ass disappear around the corner, he wondered what the hell just happened. The obvious—she brought more of her things back to the house. When thunder rumbled, he glanced out the front window. The wind blew stronger. The rain came down harder. Although it was only around six, the grey skies made the hour seem later. Tomorrow was supposed to be sunny, with zero percent chance of rain. Why wouldn’t she wait until then to unload her things? Why did he care?

Because he hated knowing her apartment existed and that she could, at any moment, leave him again. From the moment she’d signed the lease, he’d resented her and that damned apartment. He couldn’t stand that she lived in a shithole. Even more, he couldn’t stand that she’d refused to stay with him and try to make their marriage work. Before she’d moved out, he’d suggested counseling. He’d offered to sleep in the guest room. Both suggestions hadn’t appealed to him, but he had been willing to do either or both to prove that he wasn’t ready to give up on them.

He kicked off his wet sandals and, heading back into the kitchen to make the salad, told himself not to make a big deal out of a few boxes and clothes. She hadn’t, so why should he? He’d continue with his plans for the evening, serve her another of her favorite dinners, give her the surprise he’d promised, then later, take her upstairs to their room and make love. After he used a paper towel to dry his face, he started on the salad. As he sliced peppers, he wondered if maybe he was thinking with his dick. If he brought up her officially moving back in, and she, once again, gave him an excuse to keep the apartment, they might argue. If that happened, sex wouldn’t. Sex wasn’t the only thing he wanted from her, though. Although a huge bonus, he’d loved having her in the house again. Loved waking up to her, loved that their bathroom now smelled like her hair products and lotions.

Finished with the peppers, he moved on to the cucumbers. Jessica was not a morning person, and he loved the grumpy sleepy faces she’d make as she crawled out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed having coffee with her in the morning, or coming home to her in the evening. Cooking had become a pleasure again. Since she’d been gone, he rarely prepared big meals. Without her to share them with, why bother?

What he needed was to stay out of his head. Enjoy the evening. Find his good energy.

But those fucking boxes kept taunting him.

He finished with the cucumbers, then tossed the salad together in a medium-sized bowl. When he turned to store it in the fridge until it was time to eat, he nearly dropped the bowl.

“Are you in stealth mode? I didn’t hear you come into the kitchen.”

Jessica moved away from their large kitchen table, waving one of his t-shirts. “Maybe.”

“How long have you been standing there?” he asked, setting the bowl in the fridge and pulling out a bottle of wine.

“Long enough to wonder what has my badass Navy SEAL so distracted he didn’t even hear me coming into the room.”

“What’s with the shirt?” he asked, instead of acknowledging that her and her damned boxes were what had him distracted. A fight over her apartment wasn’t worth it.

“Unless you planned on entering a wet t-shirt contest, I thought you’d like a dry one.” Her gaze drifted from his bare feet, over his chest, until she met his eyes. “Or, you could go without a shirt altogether.” She looked at the timer on the stove. “We do have another hour before dinner.”

He’d originally planned on spending that hour having a couple of glasses of wine, talking, maybe give her the gift he’d bought the other day. Now she was suggesting sex. He was good with that, only those boxes were making it difficult to think about—

“This is ridiculous,” he said.

Her forehead wrinkled. “If you don’t want to fool around, we can—”

“I meant,
I’m
being ridiculous. Of course I want to fool around. When have you ever known me to turn you down?”

“So what are you being ridiculous about?”

“Your boxes and clothes,” he admitted. Screw it. He needed to man up and face whatever answer she might give him. “Why are they here?”

“Because I can’t keep my things in an apartment I’m no longer renting.”

He grinned. Relief lessened the tension lining his shoulders and neck. Now aware of how wet his shirt was, he whipped it over his head. “Can you toss me that?” he asked, nodding to the dry shirt she held.

“Sure,” she said with a raised brow, then walked over and threw the shirt in his face. “I’ll be upstairs. Call me when dinner is ready.”