Dream Spinner (Dream Team Book 3), Kristen Ashley [reading eggs books txt] 📗

There he told us they’d had a sit-down and they had no idea if this hiatus meant whoever was screwing with me was moving on, but …

“Since we got cameras outside your house, if you’re good for us to put a tracker on your car, a tracking app on your phone, you carry a panic button, and Ian sees to things at the club, you’re also good to go it alone. Unless he hits again. Then we reconvene.”

I was very much down with that plan and told Axl so.

However, even though I shared this might happen, Sly looked kind of bummed when he found he was going to be off duty.

So yes.

The guy was sweet.

And I felt a little bad.

But seriously, a girl needed some time to herself.

As what seemed like kind of our last hurrah (as such, though I hoped I’d see him again), Sly had lunch with us before he took off.

Axl drove me home, gave me the panic button, downloaded the app on my phone and set it up, put the tracker on my car, and then said, “You got my key. You can go get your stuff. Or you can leave it. I’ll clear your drawers tonight.”

Which (obviously) led to a makeout session he had to end because he had to get back to work.

I went to his place and got some of my stuff (though I left some of it too).

But I didn’t do that until I cleared a drawer for Axl at my pad.

I found not long after I got home from Axl’s that Brett was not at one with me being unprotected.

I found this when he called and shared it with me.

“Brett, the guy hasn’t been in touch in ages and I have to have some alone time,” I told him.

“I can get that, Hattie, but in an uncertain situation, you proceed with caution,” he’d returned.

“They’ve given me a panic button and put a tracker on my car and there are cameras—”

“Don’t give a fuck. But the decision has been made. And you need alone time, okay. My boys’ll still be doin’ drive-bys and they won’t go stealthy. This guy is watching you, he’ll know you got protection. They’ll also be keeping an eye on the club. Smithie still make sure all the girls got escorts to their cars at night?”

“Yeah.”

“Pantera keeping you company at night?”

“Yeah.”

“Fine,” he grunted. “But Hattie, next time a decision is made like this, I sit at that table.”

He’d then hung up.

I had a feeling that was partly about his feelings being hurt and I got that. He’d stepped up. And obviously Axl hadn’t called him in on the powwow.

I texted Axl to inform him of this misstep, and he’d texted back it was noted.

Hopefully, the stalker was done with me.

But if he wasn’t, I’d make sure Brett was in on future decisions about my safety.

And I took this as indication that no matter what Axl said, or Brett said, he was no motherfucker.

Dad had been in the same reflective mood that evening. And even though Axl had told me he’d have to work late so I was on my own for dinner, thus I told Dad I could hang with him for a while, he’d said something he’d never said before.

“No, sweetheart. I’m sure you got a lot of other things you’d rather be doing than spending time with your old man.”

He was right.

Still, it felt weird to be let off the hook like that.

Though, it seemed meeting Axl had had an interesting effect on my father.

I just wondered if that would continue to develop, how it would, and if whatever that was, was good, and finally, if that would last.

On the way home from Dad’s, I got a call from Axl whereupon, immediately after exchanging greetings, he asked, “After you work, yours or mine, baby?”

First, I loved, even though I was no longer staying with him, that didn’t mean I didn’t get to sleep beside him.

Second, I wanted him to fuck me in my bed.

“Mine.”

“Right. Text me when you’re on your way home from Smithie’s. I’ll meet there.”

“I’ll give you a key tomorrow.”

“Cool, beautiful.”

A week and a day together, we each had the other’s keys.

I thought that was seriously, freaking rad.

After I got home from work, Axl meeting me at my place then fucking me quick and hard (and the usual fantastic) before we both passed out was even more seriously, freaking rad.

Axl was gone before I even got out of bed in the morning on Thursday (also stuck in a post-fuck haze, that said, his day started super early, he was always out the door before seven, sometimes earlier than that, and I wasn’t usually out of bed until nine, earliest, more often closing on ten).

But when I finally pulled myself out of bed and got down to loading up the Smeg, I opened up the fridge and saw my lonely, woeful salted caramel creamer and kicked myself for not hitting the grocery store on the way from Dad’s after my phone conversation with Axl.

I rectified that yesterday (we now had white chocolate mocha, cinnamon, vanilla, toffeenut and the aforementioned salted caramel).

And he’d noticed.

Rounding that out, Thursday included Dad calling me and saying he was good on his own.

Which prompted a short conversation that he did not get impatient with (first shocker), that included me asking if everything was all right with him (he assured me it was). If he was taking care of his health (he assured me of that too, second shocker, because he sounded like he wasn’t lying). And if we were all right.

“It’s just that meeting your man made me realize I lean on you too much,” he’d said to that last (third shocker). “I love to see you, Hattie, but you’re a young woman. The last thing you need is to be spending every night with your father.”

He was right about that.

It was still a shock.

Thus Thursday also included me calling Mom to share not only this turn