good.
Squaring my shoulders like a superhero flinging my cape to the side, I stepped back to the door and knocked decisively.
The voices stopped, and a second later Leo opened the door. He blanched when he saw me.
“Brooke? Hi. What’s up?”
“You left your phone at my place,” I said, leaving it in my back pocket rather than offering it to him. “Who are you talking to?”
“Me? Nobody. It’s just the TV. Thanks so much for bringing me my phone.” He held out his hand.
I moved my foot forward. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
He looked over his shoulder. “Um . . .”
“You’re going to let me in.” I pushed my way past him and walked inside the tiny cottage. There was a sitting room full of brown and tan upholstered furniture, a short hallway leading to a bedroom and a bathroom, and a rustic but serviceable kitchenette. And standing in that kitchenette next to a vintage refrigerator was the woman from the bar. Biker-Chick Barbie. She was leaning against the pine-topped counter, as casual as somebody just waiting in line for a bus. She was drinking from a paper coffee cup, and her expression didn’t change one iota when she saw me. I doubt I could say the same for myself.
I turned to Leo. “Just the television, huh?”
Frown lines creased his forehead. “This probably looks bad, Brooke, but it’s not what you think. I can guarantee it.”
I crossed my arms and tapped my foot. “Okay, then. How about you tell me what it is?” There had to be at least zero good reasons for that woman to be standing in his kitchen. At least zero reasons that would stop this sinking sensation in my chest.
“What’s she doing here, Leo?” the woman asked, as if I wasn’t right there to hear her. I glared in her direction, trying not to notice today’s outfit of tight jeans, knee-high black leather boots, and a black wide-necked top that was shifted to only cover one shoulder. The strap of a black bra peeked out over her other shoulder. It was a little early in the day for such a Saturday night kind of outfit. Skanky ho.
“What am I doing here?” I asked, staring directly at her. “I came by to give Leo his phone because he dropped it in my bathroom last night when he stripped off all his clothes to get in the shower with me.” Hah! Take that, skanky ho!
She rolled her eyes. Loudly. “Jesus, Leo. Can’t you keep it in your pants? And I’m not talking about your phone, by the way.” She took a slug of coffee, and I swiveled back to him.
“Okay,” he said, rubbing his hands together and looking all sorts of uncomfortable. “What we have here is a unique situation. And Brooke, there are things I should have told you about sooner but . . . I couldn’t.”
“Couldn’t? Or just didn’t? Either way, I suggest you tell me now.”
“I can’t.”
God damn it. How did this keep happening to me? The first guy I’d fallen for in six years, the first guy since Jason, and there was another woman involved? Again? My stomach roiled, and the coffee I’d had for breakfast threatened to come back up. Whether I had the worst luck or the worst judgment, it appeared I’d been lied to. Again.
“You may as well tell her, Leo,” the woman said. “She’s going to find out soon enough anyway.”
I didn’t like the casual way she seemed to be in charge here. “Who are you?” I snapped.
“I’m Leo’s partner,” she said, finishing the coffee and tossing the empty cup into the trash can at the end of the counter. She sauntered over to the couch and sat down, knees apart with her elbows resting on them, hands dangling casually.
I shifted my steely-eyed stare from her to him. “Your partner?”
“Business partner,” he clarified, as if that made any difference at all. “Remember when I said I worked with a friend I knew from Iraq? This is her. Gina, Brooke. Brooke, Gina.” His attempt at polite introductions fell pointlessly flat, like introducing a cobra to a mongoose and expecting it to go well.
“I thought that company went out of business,” I said. And I’d assumed your soldier buddy was a man. Sexist me, I guess.
“Not exactly out of business. We’re just . . . transitioning into other things. Will you sit down, please?” He gestured to a chair, but I didn’t want to sit down. I wanted to stomp my