Always Room for Cupcakes, Page 3

  Ugh, I felt like I needed a shower just thinking about going into his office and having this conversation, but Moose needed this girl, and I needed the money, so…

  Like every other time I walked into this bank during our marriage, as soon as I crossed the threshold, The Douche’s eyes found mine immediately, as if his gut told him anytime I was on the premises.

  I used to think it was romantic, like we were drawn to each other or something, now it just pissed me off. Like everything else about him…

  He rose from behind his desk and went to the door to his office, waiting and watching curiously as I beelined for him.

  Being in that glass box all day would have driven me crazy, but he liked it. I think it made him feel more powerful, validated his status in some way.

  “Delilah,” he said cautiously, probably worried I’d make a scene. Which, honestly, was always a possibility whenever we were breathing the same air.

  “Douche,” I replied with an evil grin.

  “Jesus, Lila, not here,” he said under his breath, his hand coming out to grab my forearm and drag me into his office.

  I was about to rip my arm away when he released it, shutting the glass door behind us.

  I positioned myself so I was standing between him and his desk, my perp directly in my line of sight in her position at the counter.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “You’ve been saying that you wanted to ‘explain’ for the last ten months,” I began, my hands on my hips in an angry stance that wasn’t all for effect. “Well, now I’m ready to hear it.”

  The Douche ran his hand through his perfectly coifed locks, messing them up unintentionally, and I had a little jolt of glee that he’d be annoyed later when he realized he’d gone through his workday rumpled.

  I never said I wasn’t a bitch. I had to be, to come to his job this way, staging a confrontation that I in no way wanted to have, just in order to have eyes on my perp … for a measly picture worth a hundred dollars.

  Oh well, I’d already gone too far to back out now.

  He cleared his throat, then brought his pained eyes to mine.

  “It was a mistake, Lila, a one-time fuck-up that ruined my life. I’m sorry, and I regret it every day.”

  My heart started to bleed at his words, so I hardened it, crossing my arms over my chest and asking, “Really? That’s it? That’s all you’ve been wanting to tell me? All the texts and phone calls, telling the kids you needed to talk…”

  “I never should have said anything to the kids,” he said, his chiseled jaw clenching. “But I am sorry, babe.”

  “No, you don’t get to call me babe anymore. If it was such a mistake, how did it happen? We were married for twelve damn years … How could you accidently end up with your face in Slutty Shirley Finkle’s snatch behind the fucking Starbucks? That shit doesn’t just happen. You’re saying that was your only time with her?’

  The Douche stepped closer, his five-foot-nine frame only slightly taller than my five-foot-seven one, so we could almost see eye to eye.

  “We weren’t the same,” he said, and I knew he was talking about us. About the last couple years of our marriage. “You were busy with the kids and your events at school, and I was working all the time. It seemed like when I was home, you didn’t have time for me, so I wasn’t in a hurry to be home. We weren’t talking, we weren’t having sex, shit, we barely even touched each other…”

  I held up a hand to stop him, teetering on the brink of rage or tears, I wasn’t sure which, maybe both. I faced the floor, trying to keep my mask in place.

  “I’ve had a lot of time to think over the past ten months, and I can accept that the issues in our marriage were because of both of us. We both knew things weren’t great, but we didn’t talk about it, and we didn’t work out how to fix it. I’ll give you that.”

  Then I looked into his handsome face, and at his flinch, I knew the pain was apparent on mine. “What I can’t forgive is your absolute lack of respect for me. Not for the mother of your kids, or the woman who kept your home, for me … your wife. If you were tempted, you should have talked to me, or at the very least, told me you wanted to separate, get a divorce. Maybe that would have shaken us up enough to get some help, but to cheat … That shows that not only did you not respect me, but you didn’t love me either. Because if you did, you wouldn’t hurt and humiliate me that way. In a fucking parking lot.”

  I wasn’t yelling; I was too raw, the feelings too close to the surface. This was why I’d been avoiding him since the divorce. I didn’t want his excuses, because I knew they wouldn’t be good enough, and I’d only feel more pain.

  “Of course I loved you, and shit, Lila, I respected you and what you did for our family. It wasn’t about you, it was about me not feeling like I meant anything to you. I went to the bar to meet the guys that night, but Joel called and canceled at the last minute, so I sat down and had a drink. I wasn’t there looking for anything, I was just having as drink before coming home, then I felt a hand on my shoulder and Shirley Finkle sat down next to me. It was obvious she’d been drinking, and I told you how she’d always had a crush on me in high school … She was looking at me in a way that no one had looked at me in years. Like she wanted me. Me. She started saying stuff in my ears, telling me what she wanted to do to me and what she wanted me to do to her…”

  “I don’t need to hear the details,” I said, my voice practically a whisper, as a pain I thought I’d beaten back bloomed within me.

  “I don’t know how we ended up in the Starbucks parking lot, all I know is that what she said, and what she did, drove me out of my mind, and it felt good to be desired. I didn’t intend for anything to happen, but it did, and I’ve regretted it every second since.”

  I turned my head, unable to look at him any longer, and noticed my perp grabbing her purse and waving to the other tellers. Shit, I needed to move, which was actually perfect, because I wanted to get as far away from here as possible.

  I put my hands up and pushed roughly against The Douche’s chest, causing him to step back a few feet.

  “Thanks,” I said nastily, pushing past him toward the door. “Thanks for proving I made the right decision when I got rid of your ass. You’re not the man I thought I’d married, you’re just a weak shell of that man.”

  I gave him one last glance, ignoring the flash of hurt, which was nothing compared to the gut-wrenching pain his words had inflicted on me, then walked out after my perp.

  I hoped she was guilty, because I was itching to nail someone’s ass to the wall.

  I was disappointed when I followed the young brunette into an upscale bistro on the other side of town. It was a happening lunch spot for local business people, a lot of whom were bank customers.

  I figured she was actually stopping in for lunch, but decided I’d stick with her just in case.

  I got a table outside and ordered a wrap. I could see the perp inside from my vantage point and get some food in me at the same time. Two birds, one stone.

  At first I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. She seemed to know just about everyone in the bistro, probably a side effect of her job as a teller at the largest bank in town, and flitted from table to table as she waited for her order to be ready.

  It was at the second table that I realized what she was doing. She threw her head back and laughed at something the older gentleman she was talking to had said, and while his eyes roamed down to her quivering cleavage, she slid his pinky ring right off of his hand.

  I don’t know how he didn’t feel it, although in his defense, she had a really great rack.

  I paid close attention as she hopped around the dining room, taking a watch, a wallet, another ring, and a pocket watch. When I saw her take a pretty diamond hair clip out of a woman’s hair, I had to admit, I was kind of impressed. I’d never seen slight of hand up close like that before, and it took a special finesse to do what she did without getting caught.

  Except, of cour
se, she was getting caught … on camera, by me … but still, it was impressive.

  The perp sat and ate her meal as if she hadn’t just robbed the entire clientele of the bistro, then said her goodbyes after paying her bill and left, just as carefree as when she entered.

  I left money to cover my tab on the table and followed her a couple blocks down and a street over, to the local pawn shop.

  I waited outside until I saw her walk up to the shop owner, talk for a minute, then follow him into the back room. Reaching my hand up to the top of the door, I opened it slowly, wrapping my hand around the bell before it could signal my entrance, then I eased inside.

  Tiptoeing and keeping my breath even and as quiet as possible, I moved toward the back until I could hear their voices, then paused.

  “Here’s your take from last week,” the man’s voice said. “The old man with the Rolex actually thinks it’s his son that stole it from him. I told him that I couldn’t remember who I’d bought it from, but he’s convinced. Said it was the final straw, he was cutting the boy off.”

  They both laughed and I felt a chill run through me.

  They were running a con on the residents of the town. She stole their items and he sold them back to the victims, or probably anyone who came in and wanted to buy them, claiming someone sold them to him. Then they split the money from the sale.

  What dirty bastards…

  I left the shop as quietly as I’d entered it, going around the corner to the coffee shop to give her a chance to leave.

  I went through the pictures I’d taken, then zoomed in on the pinky ring. It was sterling silver with a B engraved in it, and looked like it was very expensive. Although, I wasn’t an expert on jewelry, so what did I know.

  I enjoyed my latte, played a few rounds of Trivia Crack, then dropped my camera in the van before going back inside the pawn shop.

  Plastering a big smile on my face, I sashayed into the store, the bell dinging as I entered.

  “Afternoon,” the man behind the counter said, and I turned my smile to him.

  “Good afternoon, how are you on this fine day?” I asked, maybe a little too over the top.

  “Better now,” the man replied, his grin kind of lecherous.

  Tapping down the desire to throw up in my mouth, I leaned over on the glass counter in front of him, treating him to a gratuitous shot of my cleavage. He took the bait, getting an eyeful before bringing his gaze back up to my face.

  “What can I do for you, beautiful?”

  The will to roll my eyes was great, but I controlled it, instead answering coyly, “Well, I don’t know if you can help me or not … it’s kind of a long shot, but I figured, if anyone in this town would have what I need, it’d be you.”

  He smirked, obviously enjoying the attention, and covered my hand with one of his.

  “How about you tell me what you’re looking for, and I’ll see what I can do.”

  I stood up, pushed out my chest, and twirled a lock of hair around my finger.

  “See, it’s my daddy’s birthday this weekend, and I wanted to get him something real special. He’s always worked so hard, and could never afford the things he wanted … He’s always been a big fan of those mobster movies, really liked the jewelry the men wear and stuff, so I thought maybe if I could find a ring or a pendant or something, he’d get a kick out of it. His name’s William, but he goes by Bill, so something with a W or a B would be just perfect.”

  I pouted in what I hoped was a pretty way, puffing out my lower lip and looking up at him from beneath my eyelashes.

  “I told you it’s a long shot…” I added, letting my sentence trail off as I ran a finger over my lower lip.

  His eyebrows drew together, and I worried maybe I’d laid it on a little too thick and he was on to me, when he held up a finger and said, “Just give me a minute,” then disappeared into the back.

  I watched him go then wandered over to the jewelry counter and leaned over, looking inside. If he was monitoring me from the back, I wanted him to think I was searching for a piece for my father.

  A delicate emerald ring had actually caught my eye when I heard him coming back to the front. Tearing my eyes away from the pretty piece of jewelry, I flashed my teeth at him as he stopped in front of me.

  I watched as he laid out a chain, which had a large oval pendant with a big W engraved on it. When he didn’t immediately put out anything else, I worried that he wasn’t going to show me the ring, then he said, “I have this necklace, and I also have a ring that you might like, but it’s a bit more expensive.”

  He took my hand and turned it palm up, then dropped the pinkie ring inside.

  I made a show of picking it up, looking it over, then placing it on my own pinkie and holding my hand up to look at it.

  “Oh, it’s perfect,” I said, smiling up at him as if he were my hero. “How much is a bit more expensive?” I asked, keeping my tone cautious.

  “Three hundred.”

  Son of a bitch … I sure hoped Moose would pay me back for this.

  “I’ll take it,” I replied, reaching for my purse. “My daddy’s always given me the best presents, now I want to give back.”

  He smiled and rang me up, then placed the ring in a small box and handed it to me.

  Before I could take the box, he grabbed my hand and asked, “How about dinner?”

  I bit back a gag and replied sorrowfully, “Oh, I don’t think my boyfriend would like that too much.”

  His face darkened, but before he could say anything, I yanked my hand out of his hand and said happily, “Thanks so much. Daddy’s going to love it.”

  Then I got the hell out of there.

  I felt like I was going to throw up.

  The Douche had picked up the kids an hour earlier, not saying a word to me, probably still butt hurt over yesterday’s exchange. I was curious over what he had to be upset about. I was the one who’d been told that all it took to get my husband to cheat on me was a stiff drink and some dirty talk.

  As soon as I’d kissed my kids goodbye, I rushed to the shower and began the process of getting ready for my first date in over thirteen years.

  I knew we were going to dinner, but I wasn’t sure where, so I went with a short-sleeved, cobalt-blue jersey dress that matched my eyes perfectly, and would be appropriate whether the restaurant was casual or fancy.

  I used light makeup, just enough to highlight my features, and styled my hair in long, loose curls. I’d thought about straightening it, but ran out of time shaving every hair known to man off of my body. This took long enough to be embarrassing.

  Now I was ready, heels on, clutch in my hand, and waiting nervously for Cade to arrive.

  I heard footsteps falling on the outside stairs and had to concentrate on my breathing so I wouldn’t hyperventilate.

  I bit back a squeak when the pounding started on the door and looked out the peephole.

  Holy shit, he looked good.

  I took in as much of him as I could through the tiny circular window. Motorcycle boots, dark jeans, and a red and black button-up shirt. His hair was down and I could see it had some curl to it, the dark tresses kept back off his face and falling to his shoulders, and his beard looked groomed.

  When he knocked again, I realized I’d been staring through the peephole long enough for him to get impatient, so I stepped back, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

  His gaze started at my feet and slowly worked its way up, so by the time his eyes met mine, I felt like I’d just been given a full-body caress.

  Jesus!

  “Hi,” I said, my voice coming out a little breathless from his perusal.

  “You look gorgeous,” was his reply, which caused me to grin broadly.

  “Thanks, so do you.”

  “You ready?”

  “Yeah.” Then I looked down at myself and asked, “Will this be okay for the bike? I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t want to wear pants…”

  Cade gave me a half grin and sho
ok his head. “No, I wanna keep you safe, so that precious skin needs to be covered whenever you’re on my bike,” he said, pointing down at my bare legs.

  “Oh, I thought … since you said you wanted me on your bike, that meant…” I stopped talking at his knowing grin, and realized I’d just repeated what he’d said verbatim. Great, now he probably guessed I’d been replaying that little scene over and over in my head.

  “I just meant I wanted you with me,” he corrected, causing a nice tingle to run through me. “And you don’t have to worry about it. I figured you’d dress up, so I brought my truck.”

  “Oh, okay,” I said, pleased by his thoughtfulness, then stepped out and locked the door behind me.

  As he pulled away I found myself looking at his large hands on the wheel. He was a big dude, probably somewhere around six foot three or four. Everything I’d seen about him so far had been large. His hands, his feet, his biceps. It made a girl wonder…

  “What are you thinking about?” Cade asked with a deep chuckle, startling me out of my perusal and making my cheeks turn red.

  “Um, I was just wondering where we’re going,” I lied through my teeth.

  Rather than calling me on it he replied, “That Italian joint on Sixth.”

  “Mmmm, I love that place.”

  “Good.”

  I took in his jeans and button up, thought about it for a minute, then said softly, “Although, I think they require a jacket and tie.”

  Cade just smirked as he looked out at the road and said, “Don’t worry about it, darlin’.”

  I decided to take his advice and not worry. I was going to be the new and improved Delilah Horton. Who dated hot, burly men and lived life without being so damn cautious.

  When we arrived at the restaurant, Cade put his hand at the small of my back as he ushered me inside, which I had to admit, I really liked. I also noticed that every female from ages five to seventy noticed us walk in, and had their eyes glued to Cade. This, I wasn’t so sure I liked…