Page 90 of Baxter's Right-Hand Man

When Tony texted me around noon, I chalked it up to premonition. As if the universe was trying to warn me to keep my guard up.

We got a great offer. Fifty thousand above the asking price. I’m assuming you’re okay with that. If so, can you meet to sign the paperwork to get the ball rolling?

I pursed my lips.Yes, I’m free anytime today.

* * *

I agreedto meet Tony at a coffee shop on Melrose during my afternoon break. That gave me one hour to untie the last string binding me to my ex. I should have been over the moon, but I felt more nervous than anything.

I scanned the board behind the register, then cast a glance toward the entrance. I still couldn’t shake the creepy sensation I was being watched. I’d mention it to Pierce when I saw him tonight and—

“Lorenzo. Hi.”

I did a double take and turned slowly to greet my ex-boyfriend.

“Tony.”

I hadn’t seen him in two years…maybe longer. He looked good.

Tony was a big Latino man—six feet, muscular bod, olive skin, brown eyes, short dark hair, a sexy cleft in his chin. I eyed his well-fitted uniform and the gun holstered at his hip.

Déjà vu hit me like a bolt of lightning. I remembered the day he pulled me over, the day the judge ordered me to pay the ticket he’d given me. I remembered fuming in the elevator, poking at him for a reaction, and asking if he was worried he’d shoot himself in the foot. I remembered his laugh—deep and rich. I remembered loving the way he looked at me, as if he thought I was funny or sexy or just…someone he wanted to know.

We’d known each other well for so many years, and I’d been so grateful to be the person he loved.

I remembered how devastated I was when that changed.

This was the man who’d broken my heart. No wonder I felt I’d been walking through spiderwebs all morning. This was going to be awkward.

Or was it? I didn’t love Tony anymore. I wasn’t angry, I wasn’t hurt, I was…ambivalent. And I really wanted this to be over once and for all.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m doing well. You?”

“Same. I’m…in West Hollywood now.” He lifted his left hand and gestured toward the coffee shop window. The afternoon sunlight streamed through the window, glinting on the gold ring on his left ring finger. “Are you still working for Bran?”

I blinked and inched forward in line. Tony kept a respectful distance as he moved behind me. I braced myself for a rogue memory. Three years ago, he would have put his arms around me or a hand on my shoulder or my hip. He was a touchy-feely person. He’d never been able to fall asleep without some body part on mine. And now we were strangers.Huh.

“Yeah. So…we got a good offer?”

“We did,” he enthused, lifting a binder he’d tucked under his arm. “Want to grab something to drink and go over this?”

Insisting on buying our iced coffees had nothing to do with the goodness of my heart. Standing in a slow-moving line and making small talk with Tony sounded like hell. I didn’t want to be rash and sign the documents willy-nilly, but in my perfect world, this would be over in fifteen minutes or less.

Thirty minutes later, we were still discussing terms of escrow, tenting for termites, and other yawn-inducing items on the potential buyer’s wish list.

“Personally, I think they should take care of the termite tenting, but I’m fine with everything else. Where do I sign?”

Tony flipped through the paperwork and handed over a pen. “It’s a thirty-day escrow, so they should disperse funds soon after. You can contact the agent and give him your banking info. His name is Mike…good guy. He’ll be happy to answer any questions you might have.”

“I doubt I’ll want to know anything besideswhere’s the money?”

“Trust me, I’ll be asking that same question.” He chuckled, scratching his jaw. Again, the ring reflected in the sun like some kind of beacon that was almost impossible to ignore. “I’m still paying off the wedding.”

“Wedding,” I repeated.

“Yeah. I, uh…I got married recently.”