Page 23 of Fierce

An Unexpected Source

When Hope had pulled off her shoes and run down the stairs, I’d wanted to go after her, throw her over my shoulder, carry her to my car, and make her listen. Make her talk. Make her stay until we could work it out. By which, yes, I probably meant, “until she saw it my way.”

And after that…well. After that, I had a list.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t do any of it, because this wasn’t the New Zealand bush, it wasn’t three hundred years ago, and she wasn’t mine.

There was that other uncomfortable thing as well. That I’d made her cry. That I’d hurt her and made her feel small.

It was the last thing I’d wanted. I didn’t want to ruin her life. I wanted to make it better. Instead, I’d done just the opposite. I’d stuffed up, in fact, about as thoroughly as a man could. It wasn’t a feeling I was used to, and I wasn’t enjoying it.

I rang Eugene on the drive back to the house. It took him four long rings to pick up, and I nearly rang off. I didn’t ask for advice. Ever. What was I doing?

“You know I don’t work on Sunday night,” were the first words out of his mouth. “I got grandkids. Family time, man.”

“Not a concept an entrepreneur can afford to entertain,” I couldn’t help pointing out.

A couple of pithy words told me what I could do with my opinion. “That click you hear? That’s gonna be me hanging up.”

“No. Wait,” I hurried to say. “This one isn’t business. It’s personal.”

“Mm-hm. We thinkin’ little and blonde?”

“Yeh,” I admitted reluctantly. “Didn’t work out quite as well as I’d planned.”

“Yep. She ain’t tough, oh, no. Not near as tough as you. And yet here you are staring at that slammed door and wondering how you screwed up so bad. That about the picture?”

“Yeh.” I stared out the window at the Manhattan scene. “That’s about it.”

“Here’s a straight-up gold-plated tip for you, and I won’t even charge you for it. Some girls say no. Some games you ain’t gonna win.”

“So what do—” I stopped and cleared my throat.

“You know, ain’t no shame in saying it. What you supposed to do to try to get her back, you mean, now you made a big-ass mess of it? First off, how bad was it? Unforgivable bad, or just asshole bad?”

“Asshole bad,” I admitted. “I think. But she left her shoes and ran away.”

“Her shoes? Damn, man.”

“Because I’d bought them for her. But they were an apology, so why would she give them back?”

“You had to apologize once already? How many times you been with this girl?”

I had to think. “Talked to her three times, counting everything.”

I heard the wheezing chuckle. “Oh, yeah. You got a rough road ahead for sure. You make her feel like a hooker?”

“No.”

“Now, how did I know? She not a real experienced girl?”

“Not an—” I cleared my throat. “Not an experienced girl at all.”

A sigh came down the line. “We gotta call in an expert on this one. Way over my head.”

“I’m not talking to some shrink,” I said in alarm.

“Nope. Just talkin’ to Debra.”

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