Page 4 of Fire

“That’s big.”

I look at her, entranced. I swear she comes close to giggling. I suddenly feel the need to not stop until she freely lets her laughter loose in front of me.

“Yeah.”

“Was he bigger than you?” she asks quietly.

I laugh. “Yeah, babe. I’m not that big really.”

“Maybe you need a new mirror,” she counters.

“Not this again. Do you know one of my men thought I weighed three hundred pounds?”

“Was it Einstein?”

I laughed. I couldn’t help myself. “You’re damn cute, Grace. I might be big, but it’s muscle, by the way.”

“Think I had that figured out. Your coffee is getting cold.”

“My name is Ford,” I say, needing to hear my name pass through her sweet lips.

“Is that because you drive a Ford or because you drive a Chevy?”

“You catch on quick, but in this case, you’re wrong. It’s my actual last name.”

“Oh,” she murmurs, sounding surprised. “What’s your first name?”

“Carter, but the only person who truly knows that is my daughter.”

“You have a daughter?”

“Lyla, yeah. She’s beautiful, funny, smart, and the best mother to my granddaughter.”

“Granddaughter? You don’t look old enough to be a grandfather.”

I grin. “She’s a baby. I’m not too old for you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Her body jerks as if I’ve slapped her. “I-I wasn’t thinking anything close to that,” she stutters. “I better get back to work.”

I watch as she turns away from me. On instinct, I reach out and grab her arm. “Hey, don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“I want to get to know you, Grace.”

“Why?”

“Why?” I ask. “Why would any man want to get to know you? You’re beautiful.”

She gives me a sad smile. “Beauty doesn’t mean anything, and there are a lot more women out there who are prettier. You don’t know me. I could be a horrible person.”

“You’re not, and that’s why I want to get to know you. To see if the rest of you appeals to me, too. We have to get to know one another to see if there’s anything deeper. Isn’t that how it’s always done?”

Fuck, I’m laying it on thick, but I don’t give a damn. I already know I want her. It’s not all to do with her looks, either. There’s just something about her that instantly draws me in. I’ve never felt that before. I want to spend time with her. I also want her in my bed, begging me for more—not that I can say that yet.

“I’ve no idea. I’m off the market. Have been for a while,” she says, and motherfucker, her words inflict pain and anger inside me at the same time.

“You’re married?” The words come out stilted, almost as if I’m fighting them. If she truly belongs to someone else. I might be tempted to kill him.

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