Seven twenty the next morning...

The phone rang. I opened my eyes and saw an ivory satin pillowcase and my body felt Lash's curled into the back of it, his arm wrapped tight around me.

Yes, Lash and I slept together. We didn't start this way but the minute I moved in was the minute his mother started showing up unannounced in the morning, using her key and surprising us. A life-long Vegas resident, an ex-showgirl (hence her naming her son "Lash"), she was beside herself with glee Lash hooked up with me, the Vegas showgirl to beat all Vegas showgirls.

She was not beside herself with glee catching us in separate bedrooms.

Questions were asked, nosy ones and after the fourth time it was clear she wasn't buying Lash's excuses that we'd had a rip-roarin' the night before.

So Lash talked to me.

I got him. He loved his mother and she was unfortunately the kind of mother who would not accept who he was. Growing up, his Dad was a trucker and not around a lot, his mother a showgirl and therefore, mostly on her own, she took care of him. Being a showgirl, this wasn't easy but she did it, she did it well, she liked doing it thus she didn't complain. She loved her handsome boy.

She just didn't want him to be gay.

This was coupled with the fact that Lash's father was a man's man. I got the impression that Lash's Dad would be more approachable on this subject but not by much. He was proud of his son, his son's occupation, his son's reputation and his son's success. I got that Lash loved his Dad and was loath to take that away and I got why he didn't.

Lash also worked the hotshot, playboy angle for business. Many of his VIPs would not be down with hanging with a gay guy but instead preferred to think they were tight with someone who was just like them, ambitious, wealthy, aggressive and sexually predatory. Lash, of course, was all that except the last part, his prey was a different gender.

And anyway, I loved Lash. He took care of me in a variety of ways. If he needed this, it was my small way of returning the favor.

I didn't mind sleeping with him. We whispered to each other before falling asleep, talking about our days, what the next one would bring, whatever. It was nice.

And he cuddled and I liked that, the affection, the closeness.

And he had satin sheets and they were the freaking bomb.

I felt Lash shift, his arm going from around me, I heard the beep of the phone and his deep voice sleepily saying, "'Lo." There was a pause then, "Right here." Then he rolled back and said sleepy-growly to me, "Gotta say, not a big fan of takin' a call for my girl from a man at just after fuckin' seven in the fuckin' morning."

When he sounded sleepy-growly like that, it was one of the few times I wished he wasn't gay.

I saw the phone in front of me and, sleepy myself, I took it without hesitation.

Then I put it to my ear and greeted, "Hello?"

"Ivey?"

My heart stopped beating.

Gray.

It was Gray.

I shot up to my forearm and asked, "Gray?"

"Yeah."

Oh God.

I felt Lash's chest press to my back.

"Gray, what ?"

"Know Janie called you. Don't want your money. Stay out of it."

My heart started beating again but fast.

"Gray " I began.

"Don't want your fuckin' money, Ivey. Stay the fuck out of it."

My temper started rising.

"Gray, it isn't "

He cut me off again. "Fucked, Janie phonin' you. Totally fucked. I do not need this bullshit and I do not want your money. Stay out of it."

My temper shot to the stratosphere.

He wanted to be a macho man rancher cowboy without a ranch or horses, fine. Pride goeth before the fall.

Whatever.

His problem.

Not mine.

Not mine.

"Fine," I snapped.

"Fine," Gray clipped back.

I wasn't done.

"And, do me a favor, you want me out of it and everyone wants me out of Mustang, keep Mustang away from me."

"Not a problem, Ivey. Janie won't be phonin' you again," Gray assured me.

"I'm not talking about Janie. I'm talking about Buddy."

Silence then, "What?"

"Buddy," I hissed. "He showed at the club last night, got in my face, threatened me, told me to keep my nose out of it just like you just did. Except, even though your voice isn't filled with peaches and cream right now, he was a lot less nice about it and his meaning was clear. So clear, I had to have him forcibly removed from the club. So, Gray, you want me out of it, keep me out of it not only with you and Janie but also that hideous troll. I don't need his kind in my life. Do you understand me?"

"Buddy came to your club?" Gray asked quietly.

"Yes. He came, got in my face and threatened me. And he was not joking. He meant it. I didn't like it. If you want me out of your shit, keep your shit away from me."

Gray was silent.

I wasn't.

"Good luck, Gray. I hope you sort it out. Have a nice life."

Then I beeped the phone off.

Then I threw it on the satin comforter.

Then I exploded, "God!"

"Babe?" Lash called, I shifted and flopped down on my back.

His eyes caught mine and his hand came up to cup my jaw.

"Babe," he whispered.

I felt the tears wet my eyes and again I deep breathed.

"Oh my girl." Lash kept whispering, handsome face soft, eyes warm and worried. I'd eventually told him about Janie's call. This was our way. I eventually told him everything. He also knew about Buddy's visit last night.

I went on deep breathing.

Then I got a lock on it.

"I'm okay," I finally whispered back.

Lash's head tipped to the side. "Sure?"

God, I loved him.

"Sure, honey."

He studied me. Then he leaned in and kissed my forehead. Then he settled back down and adjusted me so we were spooning again.

"Go back to sleep, babe, yeah?"

We were never home before two in the morning and we were never up before nine.

Lash was right, we needed sleep.

"Yeah," I agreed softly.

Lash's arm pulled me closer.

It took awhile, it was tough, too much happening in my head, too much worry gnawing my belly, too much artillery battering away at the walls around my heart.

But eventually I found sleep.

Chapter Twenty-Two.

Shot to the Heart One day, four hours later...

The phone was ringing and I was in the sitting room, standing with Lash and his mother Rhonda, listening to them talking about how they were going to redecorate it (again). Lash had lived in his house five years and redecorated every room at least once. This would be the sitting room's third look.

Seriously. How Rhonda didn't cotton on her son was gay, I had no idea.

"I'll get it," I mumbled, moved into Lash, leaned up and touched my mouth to his.

His hand came to my waist and gave me a squeeze.

This wasn't fake. This was us. Affection. Pure.

Maybe that was how Rhonda didn't cotton on. No one could see through that because there was nothing to see.

I walked out of the room, went to the phone, beeped it on and put it to my ear. "Hello."

"Ivey?"

Shit. Janie.

"Hello, Janie."

She was silent a second then, "I...I...oh, Ivey, I'm really sorry. I told Roan and Shim I called you. They had to know so they could find out what Gray needed but I forgot Roan has a big mouth. He told his wife Stacy, she owns the salon and her mouth is bigger. Word traveled. Got to Buddy, got to Gray. I had no idea Buddy would, he would..." she paused then went on, "do what he did. That wasn't cool. I'm sorry you had to deal with that."

"Not a problem, Janie, just as long as he doesn't come back. Don't worry about it."

"It's, I think..." another pause then, "it was really nice how you wanted to step up for Gray but he talked to me and he was kind of..." again a pause then, "not happy."

I bet.

She kept going.

"So, he's going to do his thing and we need to stay out of it. But, again, it was really nice of you to want to kick in."

So Gray was going to go forth and lose his land, lose everything.

Men.

Stupid.