“What the hell am I doing?” Staring down at the mess of pots and pans on top of the stove, splattered tomato sauce covering every spare inch of the stovetop, I reached the only conclusion I could. I was out of my mind. Plain and simple, it was the only reasonable explanation for why a woman with no kitchen skills had attempted to cook a meal befitting Queen Martha Stewart. “Yeah, I’m an idiot.”

After another long talk with Darlene before she made her way down to visit Harris and his grandchildren in Texas, I figured it was time to put my plan in place. In two days time I would make my way to Toronto for three days of body art and reconnecting with many of the people I tried to reach over the last few months, which meant I might walk away with a job offer. One that would definitely take me out of Belle Musique and away from Davis.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that I didn’t want to leave Davis or Belle Musique, but I couldn’t throw away a chance to move on if Davis didn’t want me like I wanted him.

Of course I knew he wanted me, but that was sexual and even I knew that good sex couldn’t be the only thing we had going for us. There were times that I thought he felt the way I did and those moments gave me hope as I clumsily put together taco lasagna, a dish that he apparently loved according to Darlene.

They always said food was the way to a man’s heart, so I just hoped the dish came out good enough that we didn’t get food poisoning. But secretly I hoped it would go much better without me having to split myself open and reveal my heart’s desire.

The door slammed and Davis’ voice rang out. “It smells good!” I listened as he kicked off his boots and his heavy footsteps sounded on the wooden floor. “You’re cooking?”

“If that’s what you want to call it, but I’d say more of stumbling my way through your mother’s recipe. Either way, there will be food. Soon.”

His handsome face lit up in a grin bright enough to make the sun jealous. “You’re cooking dinner.”

After shoving the big casserole dish into the oven and setting the timer, I turned to Davis and crossed my arms, defiant, and almost daring. “I am.”

“I like it. Next time though, maybe wear nothing but sexy lingerie under the apron?” He laughed when I tossed a towel at his head, catching it and dropping it on the table. “Just a suggestion.”

“Take your dirty suggestion and hop in the shower. Dinner will be ready soon.” His gaze heated and I could see the debate playing out in his head, he wanted to take me right in the kitchen, but he also wanted to see what came next. “Go,” I insisted.

“Fine but when I come back, you’re mine Magenta.”

That sounded like the best threat I’d ever received, so I just smiled sweetly at him, letting the sound of his deep laughter wash over me as he walked away. God, I loved that sound and I hoped I’d hear a lot more of it in the future, but that was a thought for another time because I had more to do.

Setting the table gave me time to think. Analyze. Overanalyze. And then to plot. Davis wanted me in lingerie and an apron so I would give him that. I would let him see that I could try to make this relationship thing work, that I was committed to trying. So while he was in the master bathroom, I slipped into the bedroom where my things stayed even though I spent every night in Davis’ bed. I changed into something I knew he would love because I bought it with him in mind. It was a black lace negligee with tiny sparkling buckles that connected the fabric that would have otherwise left a big opening that hid nothing. It felt sexy and I couldn’t wait for Davis to see it.

I went back into the kitchen to check the oven, turning the heat lower like Darlene suggested if the top layer cooked too fast. There was plenty of time left before dinner would be done, which meant there was plenty of time for me to wonder if this was the smart thing to do.

What if Davis was just playing around and my appeal to him was based solely on the idea that I would be gone soon? That thought pulled a groan from me and I pulled out the pitcher of palomas I made to go with the taco lasagna, sucking a full glass back to calm my nerves.

“Drinking without me?” The sound of his deep voice startled me from my own morose thoughts, which I was grateful for, because when I looked up to see him freshly showered, I forgot all the doubts traipsing through my mind. His blond hair was darker and still wet, but already starting to curl at the edges. The plain blue tee he wore stretched across his wide chest and clung to his biceps, making my mouth water.

“You were taking too long.”

His gaze finally left my face, heating to a blue so dark it was almost black as he took in what he could see of the black lace. “You changed. For me?”

I nodded and he took a few steps closer so only the counter stood between us instead of the entire kitchen. “I like it, but I need to see it all.” His fingers crawled up and over my shoulder before slowly tugging on the knot behind my neck. Davis stood back to let the apron fall to the floor and sucked in a sharp breath. “Holy fuck, Mags.”

His words brought a smile to my face which did nothing to hide the flush I felt creeping up my body. “You like?”

“I love.”

In that moment I realized how badly I wanted to hear him say that final word, the one I’d been running from my whole life. “Love. That’s a good start.” I poured two drinks, hoping the distraction would calm my racing heart. “Paloma?”

Davis shook his head and grabbed my hand to tug me around the counter until we were face to face. “There’s only one thing I want right now, Mags. You.” His mouth crashed down on mine, his lips and tongue began a slow seduction, unraveling all of my defenses before I even realized what was happening, and I wrapped my arms around him. Clung to him. Submitted to the sensual onslaught of his kisses.

I let my hands roam the big, hard playground that was his delicious body, memorizing every bulge and dip of his muscles. When his tongue slipped inside my mouth and laid siege, claiming every inch as his own, I knew I was too far gone to do anything but take the pleasure he gave ,and give it all right back in return. “Davis,” I moaned and dived right back in with an explosive kiss that took his control and snapped it in half.

“Come here.” His voice came out deep and throaty, like it hurt him to speak as he tugged me with him to the table. Davis sat and pulled me between his legs, letting his hands glide up and down my curves in a slow, drugging motion. “You look incredible. Thank you,” he breathed out with a smile and licked his lips.

“You’re welcome.”

“But it’s time to see you in my favorite thing of all. Nothing.” With slow deliberate moves, Davis slowly removed the lingerie until I stood before him in nothing but a tentative smile. “That’s better.” His lips left a path of heat all over me, making my nipples stand up and harden to points until my belly quivered and my legs went weak. “You taste so good, Mags.”

A sarcastic remark was on the tip of my tongue, but then his tongue dipped low between my thighs and my mind went blank. I could only think of where his tongue might touch next and where I hoped it would go. Davis had my full attention when he slid to the floor and lifted one of my legs onto his shoulder, giving him a better angle. “Davis.” My hips moved, dragging my sensitized pussy against his mouth and his chin, the stubble of his face adding another layer of friction I couldn’t resist.

“Take your pleasure, Magenta.” His words were low and deep as his hands cupped my ass and urged me to find my pleasure and take it, so I did. Gripping his hair tight, I dragged my hips back and forth, letting out a long loud cry when two fingers slipped inside of me as I moved faster and faster. “Yes,” he mumbled against me and the vibrations were just what I needed to fall apart.

“Oh, Davis!” The orgasm rushed out of me like a waterfall, quick and massive and all consuming. My body shook hard. A tear slipped from my eye.

Before the orgasm was finished, Davis was on his feet and lifting me to the empty side of the table until I was flat on my back, watching him quickly undress. Then he was inside me, and suddenly my world felt right. Like I could stay this way forever. Davis moved inside of me, slow and patient with deep strokes that touched my soul and I couldn’t look away from his face, twisted with desire. “Mags.”

“Davis,” I began, because I knew the words couldn’t be contained, not when his blue eyes looked at me like maybe I was something special. Something more than the tattooed freak with the brash mouth. “I love-,” the last word was cut off when his thumb went to my clit, rubbing circles so fast and hard he tore a second orgasm from me that blurred my vision.

“Magenta!” That was it, his orgasm slipped out short and powerful, like the crack of a whip. He held me tight as his body jerked and convulsed into me, his own pleasure shot through my body and intensified my own orgasm.

“I love you,” I whispered because I was too tired, too vulnerable and too satisfied to keep them to myself.

Davis froze and pulled back, staring down at me with a horror that I knew meant that once again, I had gotten it wrong.

Two days had passed since I made the massive mistake of telling Davis how I really felt about him and the only saving grace was that he’d been on shift for the past couple days and I didn’t have to deal with him trying to ignore me or search for ways to let me down easily. I was humiliated enough that I’d been stupid again, thinking there was something there when clearly there wasn’t.

I’d just done it with Mason so it really made no sense that I would do it again, but the more I thought about it, the angrier I became. Not just at me either, but at Davis too. He was the one who’d spent the past few months trying to convince me he wanted more than a temporary fling until we got divorced.

But I was the dummy who believed him, so yeah, I was mad at the whole world as I packed my bags for Toronto. I’d believed it so much that I planned to ask him to come with me. Hell, I’d even bought a ticket but eating a thousand bucks hurt nowhere near as much as seeing that horrified look on his face. And I still wanted Davis to come with me. Badly.

Only I no longer had the courage to ask.

He didn’t want me. Davis wanted convenient, soul destroying sex with me and nothing more. And you didn’t take sex on the road with you, at least not according to the few rock music legends I’d had the privilege of inking in my career.

The only thought that kept running through my mind was that I should have paid attention to the things he hadn’t said. His words were sweet, endearing even but he’d never said ‘I love you’ and he hadn’t asked me to stay. I just filled in the blanks with what I wanted, what my heart desired. And I was wrong.

Again.

The sound of the door opening told me Davis was home and I took several deep breaths and prepared myself to see him for the first time since he gave me that horrified look while he was still buried deep in my body. “Magenta!”

I sucked in a long breath for ten seconds and let it out for fifteen until the fear had evaporated and I was numb, left with a hollow feeling in my chest. My legs were shaky and wooden as I made my way to the living room. “Yes?”

“You’re leaving.” He actually looked upset about that and I had to remind myself that he was a good guy, of course he felt bad that I was leaving. But that didn’t change the fact that he wanted me gone.

“I am. I’m leaving for Toronto. Soon.” Clearly he’d forgotten and I couldn’t even describe why that hurt the way it did.

“Are you coming back?” His gaze was like a brick wall, intimidating and blank.

“Who could resist an invitation like that?” It was meant to be a joke but Davis wasn’t in a joking mood and suddenly I felt lighter about leaving. I didn’t want to and I hadn’t planned on this being goodbye but it seemed that, once again, the universe didn’t give a damn about what I wanted. There was something on his mind, probably trying to figure out how to let me down easily. “Just say whatever it is you have to say, Davis.”

He opened his MBFD backpack and pulled out a manila envelope that looked more than official, tossing it on the coffee table between us.

“What is it?”

“Look at it,” he said but his gaze wouldn’t meet mine and I knew what was inside.

But I looked anyway. “Divorce papers,” I mumbled unnecessarily because the words were there in black and white. Block letters that said it clearly what he could not. Davis Crawford wanted to divorce me, Magenta Sullivan. “Right.” My movements were jerky because my body had gone ice cold, but I managed to slide the papers back inside the envelope and shoved it into the side of one of my two bags. I had plenty of time to go over the details before I signed.

Because I would sign them, right before I left Canada.

“You don’t have anything to say?” He seemed angry and that only made me angrier.

“What do you want me to say, Davis?” Because I had no fucking clue.

“Something. Hell, anything Magenta. Are you relieved? Angry? Sad?”

A bitter laugh escaped at his words. “Does it matter? You’ve said what you wanted so what I want isn’t relevant.”

“Dammit, Mags I love you! I want you to stay-,”

“You have a funny way of showing it, Davis.”

“I’m giving you what you want, Magenta. What you’ve wanted since we found out we were still married. But if you don’t want it, if you love me to, tear them up and stay. With me.”

A tear slid down my cheek, and I began to panic because I never cried in front of people. Ever. Not since I was about thirteen years old and planned a big birthday party to celebrate being a teenager and no one showed up. Not my family or the few friends I had. Not even Mason, who’d been off with his own friends and had completely forgotten. I had to get away. I had been prepared to ignore common sense with Davis, to pretend that I could be a woman like my friends and have a big strong man to love and who loved me in return. I should have known better. “Don’t pretend you don’t want this, Davis. I could have done this at anytime but I didn’t. You did.” Rifling through my leather jacket pockets, I found what I was looking for and dropped it on the table.

Then I grabbed my bags and left without another word. Tears blurred the short drive to the airport but I didn’t give a damn, and I didn’t care about all the concerned looks I got inside the airport. You’d think people had never seen a heartbroken woman before.

When I caught my connecting flight in Chicago I was still teary eyed, but tipsy, and by the time the plane landed in Toronto, I was drunk and angry and fueled by angry chick rock.

It was the perfect start to the weekend.