“No, you don’t. Now hurry with your shower so you won’t be vulnerable if he tries something. You don’t know who this guy is?”
“No clue, he said his name, but I didn’t catch it. Oh, and the kitchen is unlocked.”
“Okay. See you soon.” Gypsy hung up the phone and Willow quickly showered. Thinking she could get in and out, but because of all the clay, ended up having to wash her hair three times. By the time she finished, dressed and towel dried her hair, precisely thirty minutes had passed. Taking a deep breath, knowing she couldn’t delay any longer, she left her room and unlocked the connecting door between her and the business next door, then headed to the kitchen. She saw the man sitting at the table. She studied him as sheentered and went to the refrigerator. He really was a good-looking man with pale blue eyes, light brown hair that just kissed the collar of his shirt. And he was built, broad shoulders, narrow waist. She wondered if his physique was natural, or if he had to work at it to keep in that good of shape.
“Can I offer you some lemon water?” she asked as she withdrew a pitcher full of ice, and water with lemons floating.
“Sure.”
She poured two glasses and handed him one. She sipped hers and watched as he took a big gulp of his and practically spat it across the kitchen.
“What the hell type of shit lemonade is this?” He jumped to his feet and went to the sink and grabbed a rag to wipe up his mess.
“I said it was lemon water, I didn’t say it was lemonade. Now, who are you and what are you doing here?”
“I told you, I’m looking for Wanda Perkins and don’t lie to me, I know that’s you.”
“That’s my legal name, but I go by Willow Raintree now. It’s my artist’s name.”
“What the hell kind of cockymime name is Willow Raintree? Listen, I don’t have time for any bullshit. We need to talk.” Without realizing it, he’d backed her into the corner of the counter and loomed over her.
“I suggest you back off right now, or you’ll regret it.”
He snorted and reached for her chin and gently lifted it to stare into her eyes. “You’re such a little bit of fluff, I’m not scared of you. Bring it. But I’m not leaving here until we talk.”
“I suggest you get your hands off the lady,” came a firm voice from behind them and Christopher wheeled around and stared in shock at the six huge, buff, tattooed men standing in the kitchen along with another slip of a woman. One of the men broke off and came over to Willow.
“Willow, I’m sorry I didn’t hear you come in. I was in the office working. You didn’t tell me we had a guest.” Mick, with his back to Christopher, winked at her and turned to face Christopher, but put his arm around Willow’s waist and brought her to him and kissed the side of her head. “Care to introduce us?”
“This man came onto my, our property, while I was rinsing the towels. He scared me, and I blasted him with the hose, because he was covered in sludge, I offered him a shower. He says he’s looking for Wanda Perkins. But I don’t know this man.”
“I suggest you state your business then.” Mick stood to his full six foot three and Willow saw that the man had him by at least two inches.
“It’s private between Wanda and me. None of your business.”
“Well, we’re making it our business,” said one of the men behind him. Christopher turned and saw the five men in a semi-circle behind him.
“Sorry, it’s personal, and you guys don’t scare me. Give me thirty minutes alone with Wanda, and I’ll be out of here for good. Now if you’ll excuse us?” He quirked a brow as if indicating he could intimidate the burly bikers who surrounded him.
“No,” Willow said. “You come onto private property, scared me, I offer you a shower then you diss my lemon water, you call my name cockymime, andyou want me to be alone with you. Forget it, whoever you are. If you have something to say to me, you can say it in front of all of us.”
“No, this is personal.”
“As if.” Willow snorted. “I don’t know you, so how can we have anything personal between us?”
“I think it’s time you leave.” Bill and Tom each took the man by an upper arm and began to escort him to the door. “And I suggest you don’t come back.”
“My name is Christopher Evans,” he said directly to Willow, and he saw no recognition in her expression. Suddenly he was shoved toward the door, and he reached into his inside jacket pocket and froze when he saw the men grab for their sidearms. He held up his hands.
“I’m only going for a piece of paper.” He pulled it and slapped it on the table, he glared at Willow. “I suggest you get a lawyer if you want to play hardball.”
“What for?” the other woman asked as she walked up to Willow’s other side.
He was being escorted to the door, and he reached down to grab his soggy shoes, and with one foot out the door, he said over his shoulder, “Because I’m her husband and I want a divorce.” Then he was shoved out the door and down the stairs with the door slamming behind him. He was escorted to his car, and the men ‘helped’ him in and stood there until he left. He noticed one man had taken a picture of his license plate. “Fine,” he mumbled to himself, “If you want to play it like this, game on.” Then he left and headed back to his hotel room.
He entered the hotel, and the concierge came up and asked if he was okay. “No, could you see if youcan get these cleaned.” He held out his shoes and stalked away. Once in his room, he paced back and forth, he pulled his lists from his pocket and as he studied them, he couldn’t understand what went wrong. It was a perfect plan, no, this setback was all Wanda’s, or whatever she called herself, fault. After several hours of pacing and making several lists, he finally ordered room service and spent several more hours making more lists. The only thing he was grateful for was the fact that he’d left his business card attached to the marriage license and hoped she would contact him. But what surprised him was that when he was finally calm enough to be able to fall asleep, visions of the two of them in bed together plagued his dreams.
Chapter 10
