Marco (The Men of Indecent Exposure #1) (23 page)

Flipping off the light in the spare room left the hallway pitch black. That probably wasn’t the best idea now that I thought about it, but I made it to Marco’s room without any trouble.

He’d brought the candles in from the bathroom and placed one on each nightstand. When he noticed me in his doorway, a smile warmed his thoughtful expression.

But I wasn’t really looking at his face.

The dark jeans he wore had been traded in for a pair of gray sweats; sweats that rode low on carved hips just below the waistband of briefs that boasted the name and logo of an expensive designer. He lay there in bed, watching me watch him. I could see the imprint of his package through the material without trying. It was right there for me to see, and stare at, and fantasize about, adding to the many reasons I already had to lust after him. Marco was pure magnificence; every inch of him, from head to toe.

Harsh lines traced his shirtless torso as the candlelight created stark contrasts on his skin. Every peak, every valley, was smooth and carefully sculpted—all evidence of what I imagined had to be one hell of a workout regimen. Whatever he did in the gym was working.

“Feel better now?” he asked, referring to my bath.

I nodded with a smile, trying not to stare as I closed the space between us, making my way over to his bed. He patted the spot beside him once, inviting me to join him. I eased onto his mattress and propped my head up on a pillow, linking my fingers across my stomach. He stared at the ceiling just like I did.

“I don’t wanna mislead you,” was the way he jumped back into our conversation. “I worded my statement wrong earlier so I need to clarify.”

The silky material of the pillow touched my cheek when I turned Marco’s way, watching the range of emotions that crossed his face.

What was he trying to say?

“Brynn, I…” He paused, stammering. While I waited for him to say whatever was on his mind, my heart raced and I could feel each deep intake of air that made my chest rise. When Marco spoke again, the words, “I never quit,” had me thinking I misheard him, but then he added, “I’ve been dancing at a club called
Indecent Exposure
for eight years.”

My heart came to a screeching halt as I watched him. I don’t… That didn’t make sense. How could I have possibly missed that?

I stared so long my eyes were dry when I finally blinked again. He turned away from me and stared at the ceiling again. I had no idea what to say to him. There were so many questions.

“Believe it or not, in all the years I’ve been doing this,” he started, “…this is the first time I’ve ever felt ashamed of how I earn a living. Right now. Telling you.”

And I could see that all over him.

Inhaling deep, I stared at the side of his face as the candlelight cast shadows on his skin. He shifted as thoughts passed through his mind.

“I don’t want this to change how you were starting to see me.”

Those words struck me in a soft spot and hit home in a way I didn’t expect them to. Recently, I’d been judged pretty unjustly, pretty harshly, by my now former employer. It was still fresh in my head how it felt for the headmaster of St. Ann’s, and other school administrators, to sit across the table from me during that meeting and stare down their noses. They were so self-righteous in their swift decision to terminate me with little regard or consideration for the positive impact I had on my students during my years of employment there. So, yes, I knew what it felt like for someone to take one aspect of your existence and form an entire opinion about who you are.

And I wouldn’t do that to him.

When my fingers slipped down the length of Marco’s arm, he met my gaze, holding it as I gripped his hand. Being honest, his news was unsettling to me. I didn’t necessarily like what he did for a living, especially considering the feelings I was developing for him, but we were still just taking this one day at a time. Because of that and my vow to remain open minded, I didn’t speak on it.

“You left off saying you got into dancing to take care of your family,” I stated, reminding him of his place in the story, letting him know it was okay to go on. He’d gone into defensive mode when he thought I might attack his character, but that wasn’t my intention.

His eyes softened when he found mine and then he nodded. “Yeah… to help my mom and sisters with bills and whatever else they needed. It just…” he paused to get his thoughts together. “It got old watching them struggle, but I was a kid, you know? I didn’t have any skills. Barely finished school. So my boy, Carlos, came to me one day with this idea. He wanted to go see about getting hired in at a club, so I figured, hey, why not. The worst they could do was laugh us out of the place,” he said with a smile, relaxing a little more.

“The money was just so easy to come by.” He zoned out for a moment. “I still remember what I did when I got paid from the club for the first time. I was staying with my sister, but I’d visit my mom just about every day to check in and make sure she was doing okay. Seemed like every time I went over there she had a load of laundry to do and there was this pipe that leaked in the basement of the house she and my father lived in back then. Whenever she would wash clothes, that thing would give her trouble,” he stated, laughing at the memory. “She’d come back upstairs, yelling and carrying on, just pissed,” he added. “So, as soon as I had some cash in my hand, I called a guy out and took care of it for her.”

I listened, still clutching his hand.

“That was when I became addicted,” he said next. “That was the moment I started doing the math—a few hours of performing could fix my family. Anything they needed, anything they
wanted,
I could do those things for them.” He stopped talking and I found myself understanding how that kind of money in a young kid’s hands could persuade him to stay in that life.

It all went back to Marco wanting to save everyone around him. I witnessed firsthand how it was second nature for him to want to swoop in and provide for someone he perceived to be struggling. The moment he found out I lost my job, it was just in him to want to jump in and take care of me. In gist, he knew hard times and had no plans to go back to it, had no plans to let it consume the ones he cared about most.

“I was able to save enough to eventually buy the shop I worked at part-time on the side, bought this house and invested in my income property,” he added. “There’s decent money coming in from those sources, but none of it comes as quickly or as easily as dancing,” he added. “What I do at the club is the reason Marcela is almost done with her nursing degree, the reason Isobel was able to attend St. Ann’s, and the reason Rosalina will be starting her first semester of college this coming fall,” he explained. “Performing has never been about me. It’s never been about the attention; it was never about the women,” he explained. “It’s always been for
them
.”

His tone was solemn now as he dug and pulled those thoughts and emotions from somewhere deep within his soul. When I wiped my face, he turned toward me.

“You’re crying?” he asked, his voice coming across gentle.

I sniffled. “No, I just have something in my eye,” I lied, laughing a bit.

He smiled and turned onto his side to face me, reaching over to collect the tears from my cheek with his thumb. “There’s nothing to be sad about,” he assured me. “I’m not unhappy. I just wanted you to understand.”

I don’t think my sadness was brought on by thinking he was unhappy. He just took on so much; put such pressure on himself. That had to be a lot for any one person to bear.

A long, hard stare settled on me and Marco’s hand slipped behind my neck. I looped his wrist lightly with my fingers, gazing right back at him. My eyes fluttered closed as a kiss was placed in the center of my forehead and then another on the tip of my nose.

When he eased back, I found his gaze again. I believed his words, about him not being unhappy. Being his family’s rock was simply all he knew to be and I didn’t fault him for that. Actually, seeing how he was with them only assured me of what a good father he’d be. It made me confident that our little girl would be safe with him and could depend on him.

Always.

Marco

She knew everything there was to know about me. Everything worth telling, anyway—the good, the bad—and she was still here in my bed, right where we’d fallen asleep side-by-side the night before.

With her back to me now, I watched the side of her torso rise and fall steadily as she breathed deep. She looked so comfortable; comfortable and relaxed, which was my reason for inviting her over in the first place. After the rough day she had, I just felt better being able to keep an eye on her through the night. There were no ulterior motives, no expectations; this really was just about making sure she took it easy for the evening.

That doesn’t mean it was easy keeping my hands to myself, but somehow, I managed to not go back on my promise.

However, every man has his limits and I’d definitely reached mine.

I couldn’t be trusted to lie in bed with her for much longer, not without at least touching her. Deciding to put distance between us, I turned and sat on the edge of the bed. The plan was to get my shower out of the way while she slept, but that changed when the bed shifted behind me as Brynn turned over. The next second, a soft hand pressed against the bare skin of my back. It was only that one touch as her fingers slipped down my spine and she didn’t linger long, but it was enough to make me aware of how much I liked having her here to wake up to.

“Morning,” she yawned.

I smiled at the raspy sound of her voice. “Morning,” I said back. “How’d you sleep?” I turned to lay eyes on her face before she answered, not surprised in the least by the fact that she woke up beautiful.

“Like a rock,” she said with a laugh, stretching her hands up toward the headboard. “I didn’t snore, did I?”

“
Hell yeah
, you did. I started to put you out in the hall around two,” I teased, making her laugh harder.

“Stop lying.”

“Nah, I’m messing with you. If you did, I was too tired to notice.” I apparently decided to put the shower on hold, because I was now all the way back in bed, chilling on top of the cover.

Brynn was quiet for a moment and my eyes went to her, observing as she stared past me and focused across the room on nothing in particular. I still couldn’t believe I finally told her about the work I do. It needed to come out, but I can admit that I liked being able to keep that side of my life private. Like I told her the night before, I’d never been embarrassed for people to know I’m an entertainer, but for some reason, with her, it was different.

Time after time I came up with excuses or convenient sidesteps to avoid having the conversation we had last night, but that was only because I enjoyed having her look at me and not see a stripper. I’m not delusional. I know the things people say behind my back, or at least the things they secretly think about people who do what I do. Not telling her was easier than having to wonder if she was now thinking those things, too.

I hated to admit it, but I felt vulnerable as hell with all my business out there. The last thing I wanted was to slow the natural progression of whatever we were becoming. I liked her. A lot. More than I’d liked any woman in a long time. Yes, having a kid together was what got us this far, but… maybe this all happened for a reason. Maybe it took something like that to get us to this point.

Hopefully, being honest hadn’t ruined my chances.

Hopefully
.

I’d seen it time and time again with the guys I work with. Being in serious relationships and doing what we do never seemed to work out. The irony of being the fantasy of a woman you’ve never met, while being the nightmare of the one you love is a hard pill to swallow. It’s a lot to ask someone you care about to accept that you seduce women for a living. From what I’d seen, it never ended well. The guys who tried were always conflicted between needing the work and also needing their woman.

The ones who actually attempted to maintain relationships talked about the grief they got at home, the constant accusations of cheating, the arguments that kept them up at night. It always seemed to end the same way, too. They would hold on as long as they could, but their girls would end up not being able to take feeling like they were one of many and they’d walk away. As many women as we seemed to have when we were out there on that stage, for the most part, we’re a lonely breed.

“Something on your mind?” I finally got up the nerve to ask.

When I spoke, Brynn blinked a few times and then met my gaze with a smile. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was forced. “No, I’m fine,” she answered. I wasn’t sure I believed that.

I wouldn’t be able to function if I didn’t get this off my chest, so I decided to rehash our dialogue from the night before. “So, uh… were you cool with everything we talked about? Is there anything you wanna know? Anything you wanna ask?”

She shook her head and maintained that vague smile. “Nope. Nothing I can think of right now.”

Damn, I hadn’t cared this much about what someone thought of me in a long time. “Well, if you ever feel the need to bring it up, I want you to feel comfortable doing that.”

Listening to myself, I could practically hear the insecurity in my voice and I hated it. This, beating around the bush, wasn’t me. I had to just say what was on my mind and be straight up with her.

“O—” Brynn started, but then I cut her off with a question.

“Did I change everything by telling you what I do?” I asked. “Because I uh… you know… I kinda like what’s happening between us,” I admitted. It was hard to catch my breath while I waited for a response, but, to the naked eye, I was completely calm.

Brynn didn’t answer right away, which I appreciated her giving this some thought, but I became more nervous with every second that passed. We couldn’t deny where this was headed, but I hoped I hadn’t just ruined my chances.

Brown eyes found mine when she was ready to respond and I tried not to predict what she’d say. “You didn’t change my feelings,” she started, and then her eyes slipped away again, going back to the other side of the room when she went on. “I just… being honest, I haven’t really processed it all yet.”

My hope deflated as I wondered what would happen once she actually had time to sit and think about it. Her voice came back and I listened harder this time, trying to catch any inkling that I hadn’t scared her off.

“I’ve never been in a situation like this.
Any
of this, actually. So, all I’ve tried to do lately is take life one day at a time.” She looked up. “So, I suppose that’s how I should handle this, too, you know? Like… I guess what I’m trying to say is that I haven’t counted you out.”

But she wasn’t ready to make any promises either. That was the other part of that statement, the part she kept to herself for fear of hurting my feelings, the part that worried me.

I gave a nod and couldn’t blame her for feeling the way she did. The next second warm fingers slipped between mine and I stared at the contrast of her beautiful, dark skin against my lighter tone. Focusing on the clear polish on her nails, I listened when she spoke again.

“Thank you for trusting me enough to share those things with me,” she said softly.

My head was still stuck on wondering if she’d soon change her mind about me, but I hid how distracted I was with a faint smile.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” I lied. “I appreciated you listening.”

“No problem,” she said back, squeezing my fingers a little.

This was uncomfortable. I needed to change the subject. “What about you? You feel better?”

She shrugged. “I feel fine. I think a good night’s rest was all I needed.”

I shook my head. “That wasn’t exactly what I meant,” I clarified. “I was asking if you’ve cooled off from the argument with your friend, Naseem. Are you gonna call him?”

Her expression changed immediately and she looked up again. “Not sure.”

There was an unsettled look in her eyes, enough that I knew she wasn’t comfortable with the conflict between them.

“Have you all ever fallen out like this before?”

A deep breath left her mouth as she answered. “Never. We’ve always been tight.”

And I believed that. From what she told me from the beginning, I knew they had to have been close, even aside from them briefly seeing one another for a while. Because of that, I knew this hurt her more than she was letting on. If I had to guess, she was only holding that back because she was talking to me.

“You probably should—call him, I mean. I think you’ll feel better once you do,” I eventually added, encouraging her to smooth things out. No, I didn’t particularly like dude’s vibe at the hospital, nor was I in any way suggesting she give him another shot on a romantic level, but I wasn’t trying to stop their friendship. I’d never do that.

As long as he didn’t lose his cool again, he and I wouldn’t have a problem. When and if Brynn and I became more than what we are now, which I believed we would, I wouldn’t be that guy who’s so insecure his girl can’t keep her friends. From what I gathered, Naseem was just having a hard time accepting that I’m in Brynn’s life now—in
any
capacity. As long as he could get on board with that, he and I wouldn’t have any beef.

She shrugged her shoulders and aimlessly stroked the back of my hand with her thumb while unspoken thoughts passed through her head. “I don’t know,” she said, finally responding. “Maybe the distance between he and I is best for right now.”

Yeah, she was definitely hurt. I could hear it in her voice, see it on her face. Whatever was said cut deeper than I realized.

My instincts told me she needed a hug, so I didn’t hesitate to pull her close using the hand she already held. She came willingly and nuzzled her face against the front of my neck. My chin rested gently on top of her head and I kept telling myself not to get too attached, not to enjoy this feeling as much as I did, but it didn’t work. Not even when I reminded myself that this could all be temporary now that she knew more about me. It was too late, though. She’d already gotten under my skin.

I loosened my grip when I realized how late it was getting.

“We should probably get ready. I have to get you to your appointment with Dr. Rubino in a few.”

“Oh, shoot!” she said to herself, sitting up immediately. “I almost forgot.”

I’d already texted Pete to let him know I wouldn’t be at the shop today so I could take Brynn in for a follow up like the doctor at the hospital mentioned yesterday. If she’s given a clean bill of health, I wouldn’t bother suggesting that she let me keep an eye on her here again. I knew she wouldn’t be comfortable with more than one night, but I worry about her being alone. It comforted me knowing she was having a houseguest coming to stay with her in a couple weeks—her sister-in-law, Mona. She mentioned it during the lighter part of our conversation right before we dozed last night and knowing she’d have someone there under the same roof to watch over her for a few days gave me peace of mind.

I watched as she left my bedroom, completely unaware of the fact that I was even remotely concerned about where we stood now. She disappeared down the hallway toward the spare room where her things were.

As I lie there staring at the ceiling, my father’s words came back to mind. He said that the desire of a good man’s heart was always his family. That resonated with me from the second he spoke them. Being real with myself, I wasn’t exactly sure how good of a man I was, but I
was
sure of what I wanted. While I initially convinced myself that I didn’t need anything other than a relationship with my daughter once she got here, I was slowly but surely starting to realize that I wanted one with her mother, too. I wanted more than to get along with Brynn, more than just an opportunity to co-parent with her. I wanted to
be
with her, although I hadn’t had the courage to fully admit that yet.

At first, I didn’t entertain the thought because I wasn’t sure of my place in her life with Naseem in the picture. However, now that I had a clearer understanding of how he and I had switched roles, a new dilemma crept in and possibly stole whatever chance I might’ve had.

And this time it was on me.

I didn’t dance because I loved it. I danced because the money I earned allowed me to do for others. In years past, I tossed around the idea of quitting, but then someone’s car would break down, or someone would get behind on a bill, or any number of other things. For that reason, I felt like I had to keep going, but before now it never affected me personally. Before I didn’t care a whole lot about what anyone thought or how they looked at me.