Page 44 of My Soul for Sale

I’m just dropping the cup in the sink, happy with my work, when the bell above the door dings.

And there he is—Atlas, with that sexy as hell grin plastered across his face. Rip trails behind him, brooding and mysterious.

As Atlas comes toward the bar, I can’t help but feel annoyed and curious about how the hell they found out where I work. There’s got to be several hundred bars in the Detroit area, so how did they find this hole in the wall?

Irritation wafts over me as I find myself face to face with the unexpected visitors. Arms crossed, eyes narrowed, I confront them.

"What are you doing here?" I snap, my tone sharp and accusatory.

"You're a hard woman to find, but this time we had a little help," Atlas explains, taking a stool at the bar and propping his chin in his hands.

"I missed you," he adds. "Plus, I owe you an apology."

"So you decided to stalk me through the au—sale.” I catch myself not wanting to fuck my NDA. “You come down here over a week later and apologize? Where was the ‘I'm sorry’ the next day? Or hell, I don't know, Atlas, when your asshole of a dad was telling me what a whore I am or that I'm the same as the woman who birthed me? You sat there and said nothing. Because you thought you knew things about me. You thought you knew me. But you haven't known me in a very long time, Atlas." My chest is heaving. I'm so mad and it feels good to tell him how it is.

"You need help, sweetheart?" Moon calls from his spot at the gambling machines. "Those two bothering you? I'll throw their asses out."

"No, Moonie. Thank you though. Always my knight in shining armor." I smile at the older man with wispy blond hair who's a regular. He's a giant flirt and harmless, but I have no doubt he'd try to throw these two out if I asked.

"I'm sorry, Sloane,” Atlas starts. “I fucked up. I was so excited to see you again after everything. The weekend was even better than I imagined. I didn't want it to end, and it seemed like you couldn't wait for it to be over. I felt second best to the money. That money was more important than us. And I know it sounds crazy since it's been years and we just reconnected, but I never stopped loving you and you said as much, too. I was hurt. I should have said something when he was being a prick and I'm sorry I didn't. I'll knock his ass out right now, Dad or not, if you let me make it up to you."

I contemplate his words as I grab them each a glass, mixing them a cocktail at the station in front of their stools and setting them on the bar. "Those are on me."

I turn to Rip. He’s been silent the whole time so far. I cross my arms once more and lean a hip against the cooler.

"And you, why are you here? You could have let your son come alone, but you didn't. Come to see the shithole I work at? Rub the salt a little deeper in the wound that I'm just like Ali?"

His response is delayed as he takes a sip of his drink and then blows out a breath. His eyes soften as his pupils dilate—a rare glimpse of vulnerability beneath his hardened exterior.

"No, I came because, like my son, I owe you an apology," he admits. "I know sorry doesn't mean shit because the words will stick with you, but I am sorry. I regret saying everything I did, comparing you to her. I'm just still so mad at her and what she did. How she not only made a sham of our marriage, but she took you and then made it so we couldn't even make sure you were okay with her. I'm a bastard, Sloane. That's all I can say. But my son is in love with you, and I love him more than life itself, so if I need to humble myself and say sorry, I will."

Atlas' eyes plead with me. "Please, baby, I'll do anything. Just let me make it up to you," he pushes.

His puppy dog eyes soften my resolve, tugging at my heartstrings despite my better judgment.

"We asked about post-event communication and there are no rules," he continues. "I'll take you on dates, I'll woo you, I'll buy you a car, fuck, I'll build you a house. Just give me a chance. No strings or rules or money attached. Just us."

A mischievous idea takes root in my mind, a small wicked smile curling at the corners of my lips. "There is something you can do to help me. We can do it together, so I'm not taking advantage, but it would be a great help.”

"Name it," he responds eagerly, his eyes alight with hope and anticipation.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Atlas

Did I think that when I told Sloane to name what she wanted, she’d give me an address and tell us to meet her there this weekend with our construction van? No. But Dad and I drag our asses out of bed bright and early on a Saturday to take the van to this mystery place.

Sloane did give me her number and I’ve been texting her non-stop telling her how much she means to me, that I miss her, and every night and morning, I tell her goodnight or good morning and I love her. My dad just rolls his eyes when he sees me with my head buried in my phone, but I don't care. I’m happy.

We pull up in front of a large white Victorian house that needs some work. It’s a gorgeous house, but you can tell it’s been left unattended for a while.

“Do you know what this is?” I turn my head to look at my dad.

“This is Ali's mom’s house. I came here once so Ali could grab something, but that’s it. She didn’t have the best relationship with her mom.”

“Well, let’s see what I’ve gotten us into.” I push the door open and step out onto the sidewalk.

The front door opens and my girl steps out. Just the sight of her has my cock twitching in my jeans. She’s in a pair of tight leggings that hug her thick thighs and ass. They are paired with an off-the-shoulder T-shirt and her hair piled on top of her head in a bun with a red bandana.

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