Hammered

by Cathryn Fox

  I put my hand on his shoulder and push him back into his seat. “Sit down, little brother.”

  Jared laughs. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

  2

  Haven

  Stars twinkle in the velvety sky overhead, and crickets chirp in the nearby fields as I hurry down the long, dark road and try to put that awkward encounter at the Winchester behind me—not an easy task when my lips are still tingling from the atomic kiss. Who the hell kisses a stranger with a passion so off the charts it’s a wonder we didn’t blow the place up? Cripes, I can’t even imagine what his kisses would be like if he meant them, and don’t even get me started on the way my body is still responding, right around the juncture of my legs.

  With trees hugging either side of the winding road, I round the corner to find a big old homestead rising up in the distance. The swing on the wide expanse of porch, along with the welcome sign above the door instantly puts this out-of-tower at ease. Everything about the place exudes warmth and contentment—a happy family—and I smile as I let it wrap around me like a comforting hug.

  I grew up in California, and both my parents are managers in the movie industry. My older brother Rock—his stage name, of course—and I definitely didn’t have what I’d call a normal upbringing. Heck, I’d been starring in commercials since I was four months old and schooled every afternoon on the set. Rock acted right along with me, until my parents discovered his fighting skills, and redirected his talents. Fame and glory, that’s all they ever cared about. Raising well-adjusted kids—not so much.

  In a small town like Blue Bay, and in a homestead like this one, I just bet they had sit-down dinners where they all talked—about real things, important things. They probably all swam and fished in the lake just beyond the house, and Christmas mornings were undoubtedly filled with love and laughter around a gigantic fir tree picked out by the kids and cut down by the father. I bet it was just laden with homemade decorations.

  I chuckle slightly. I’m going all Hallmark here, but I can’t help it. I want to picture a home with a menagerie of happy kids, because it’s something I’ve always wanted. I love my brother dearly, and would be lost without him. Heck, with absent parents, Rock and I were there for each other through thick and thin, relying only on one another, because how could we possibly trust anyone in the cut-throat world we were thrust into? I shiver as I think about the kinds of people we’ve dealt with over the years.

  This big homestead, however, probably housed a dozen siblings, boys and girls who fought like cats and dogs, and loved and trusted just as hard. I always wanted a sister—or even a friend who wasn’t nice just to my face. Will I find that here in this big house, in this small town, or am I simply channeling that old Norman Rockwell calendar I had in my teens? Lord knows I try to romanticize everything—my way of escaping reality, I guess. But lessons learned have taught me happily-ever-after only exists in the movies.

  With no available accommodations in this former whaling village, a few cast and crew members are now making this gorgeous home our headquarters until our trailers arrive. Apparently Blue Bay Construction is run out of this place and the guys, I think someone said they were all brothers and cousins, will be working on building sets for us. Seriously though, opening your house to strangers is such a hospitable, small town thing to do, isn’t it? I don’t mind hunkering down here for a bit, as long as I have a soft bed tonight.

  A yawn pulls at me as I take the last step up the porch and catch the voices spilling from the open window. The laughter and comradery coming from inside eases the tension inside me, although the voices don’t sound familiar. But the happiness does remind me of home and hearth—safety—everything I’d imagined as a child.

  As I consider my safety—my stalker—I recall the apprehension creeping through my bones earlier. I jumped to conclusions, assuming that big hulk of a man following me from the parking lot at the Winchester was the same one leaving threatening notes. He was simply Tyler’s brother, and no doubt harmless.

  Tyler Owens.

  What were the odds that I’d run straight into his arms?

  My cheeks warm, ribbons of embarrassment careening through my blood as I recall my kiss with him—my God, did I really do that? Yeah, I did and damned if I don’t want to do it again.

  Get yourself together, Haven!

  I didn’t recognize him at first sight, probably because I was so scared. Some part of me thought a solid guy like him would scare off whoever was following me. Or rather, not following me. It was a ridiculous thing to do, but I wasn’t thinking with clarity, and fear was guiding my actions.

  To add insult to injury, I lied about it, telling him I had to kiss the biggest guy in the place. Hello, dim-witted moth to light. Nevertheless, he turned out to be the biggest guy in the place, and the hottest—at least to me, and to the girls two tables over. Yeah, I saw the way they were drooling over him, as well as the other Owens brothers. Not that I can blame them. The man is drool worthy, sexier than any leading man I’ve ever collaborated with.

  Maybe you should collaborate with Tyler—in the bedroom.

  No, no, no, I am not going to do that—he’s my brother’s enemy—and it would be in my best interest never to set eyes on him again. In a small town like this, I fear that might be impossible, though. I’m just glad I’m staying on the outskirts of town. I’m guessing he doesn’t venture too far from the action at Winchester’s.

  I take another glance over my shoulder, and as I peer into the dark night, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on edge again.

  You will be mine.

  My God, I guess that last threatening letter frightened me more than I want to admit. By rights, I should go to the police, or even the director and tell him I’m getting letters from some crazy stalker, but after the trouble on set during my last movie, I can’t rock the boat. Honestly, in this business, you’re only as good as your last movie, and not only was mine a flop, the off-set feuding between me and the male lead—who just happened to be my ex—was tabloid fodder. I’m lucky any director wanted to work with me after that.

  Now my motto is head down, work hard, no relationships of any kind during a shoot, and especially no relationships with anyone involved in the industry—ever. With that last thought in mind, I plaster on a smile and work to shake off my discomfort as I reach for the door to let myself in.

  My hand stills when gravel crunches behind me. I turn, search the dark driveway, and see one headlight slowly coming down the lane. My thoughts instantly go back to Tyler Owens. I honestly had no idea he lived in Blue Bay, but I’d bet my warm bed tonight that the town’s bad boy drives a motorcycle. But he’s probably already between the sheets with one of those girls who’d been admiring him from across the bar.

  Why the hell does that bother you, Haven?

  It doesn’t!

  Or at least it shouldn’t.

  I’m not about to get involved with a man who was my brother’s mortal enemy in the cage. I can’t even imagine what Rock would say if he knew I’d kissed his nemesis. Not that he needs to know. What happened between Tyler and me was a one-time thing. He’s the kind of guy with a revolving door, and I have no desire to find myself on either side of it. Seriously I could make myself a scarf with the number of red flags he gives off.

  If he’s such a bad boy, why did you feel safe with him?

  Why indeed?

  Ignoring that inner voice, I open the door, expecting to see my co-star and director sitting around chatting, but when my gaze lands on a group of strangers, I stiffen. Oh my God, it’s late and dark. Did I wonder down the wrong driveway, enter the wrong house and crash a family party?

  “Um…I’m sorry. I thought this was where…”

  An elderly lady stands and comes toward me. Her slippers scuff on the polished wooden floor as she shuffles close. “You must be Haven.” Her smile is as warm as her demeanor. My jumping nerves settle slightly, but that still doesn’t mean I’m in the right spot. Perhaps she recognizes
me from my films.

  “I am,” I say. “I thought this was where…” Backing up, I reach into my pocket and pull out a slip of paper with the house address. The door creaks behind me, and before I realize what’s happened, I back right into a brick wall.

  “Whoa,” a man says, his mouth by my ear, the heat of his breath doing ridiculous things to my body. I don’t need to turn to know I’ve backed straight into Tyler Owens. So it was him on the motorcycle. Honestly, what are the odds I’d run into him—literally—two times in one night, and that he and his family are the ones who will be working on the sets? Is he the one stalking me? I gasp at that thought and spin around. His face softens, his eyes narrowing in on me.

  “Haven, are you okay?” he asks in the softest, sweetest voice, and despite his big presence, the way his strong, protective hands are touching me, all the stress of the last week, and all the threatening letters comes racing back in a whoosh.

  You’ll be mine.

  As tears threaten, I blink my eyes to dull the vision of those words found on the sheet of the paper shoved under the bathroom stall at the airport, right after I landed in Connecticut. Someone knew exactly where I was going to be. Were they on the plane with me, or were they waiting in the terminal? A hard shiver races down my body and I shake, almost violently.

  “Haven,” he says again, and that’s when I realize I’m causing a scene. Calling on all my acting skills, I push my hair back and fake a smile.

  “Sorry, you frightened me.”

  He doesn’t smile. Instead, he angles his head, those gorgeous green eyes of his moving over my face in a careful assessment. I stiffen, willing myself not to squirm, to show any sign of nervousness. He doesn’t need to know about my problems. “You seem to be frightened a lot lately.”

  Shoot, I didn’t think he’d be able to read me so easily.

  “No, it’s…I didn’t expect anyone to be behind me.”

  “And at the bar?”

  I give a dismissive wave of my hand. “Oh, like I said, that was a silly dare,” I blink to hide my discomfort, but I’m wasting my time. This man can see right through me. I don’t know how, and I don’t know why. I only know that I’d have more luck convincing a room full of movie critics that I was acting on a dare, before this guy.

  He lifts his head, ending the staring contest, and he exchanges a look with the elderly lady beside me. Whatever they just silently telegraphed sets her into motion.

  “Haven,” the woman says. “Come in, come in. You’re in the right place. Don’t let my grandsons scare you off. They might look like ogres, but they’re all sweet boys.”

  “Hey who’s calling me an ogre?” one of the guys sitting around the table asks, and I note he has the same eye color as Tyler. In fact, all the guys do. I’m not a writer, I’m an actress, but if I had to describe it, I’d say it was the color of dark moss with speckles of molasses, everything about them reminding me of the green of spring after a harsh winter. The kind of eyes that can see all the bare patches of the soul.

  Tread carefully, Haven.

  “Hush, Jacob,” the woman says. She smiles at me again. “I’m Grandma Nellie. You can call me Gram.”

  “Nice to meet you, Gram?”

  She points. “My grandsons, Carter, Jace, and Jacob. There are more—”

  “Really?” I ask, my heart jumping. Maybe I was right about this place. Maybe it is hearth and home and maybe there are some women I could bond with—Lord knows it’s nothing but competition between women in my world. “You have granddaughters too?”

  A series of groans roll around the room. “What did I say?”

  “Don’t ask,” Tyler says, and I laugh at his exaggerated groan, instantly feeling a comradery with these guys.

  “I have grand-daughters-in-law, but one of these days, these boys will give me a great-granddaughter.” Another series of groans roll across the room.

  “How many grandsons?” I ask

  “Eight grandsons, and two great grandsons.” A warm smile takes over her face and it’s easy to see how much she loves her family, and how much they all love her. “They’ll all be around sooner or later to say hello, or you’ll run into them on the set, but I take it you already met Tyler.”

  “Tyler and Sean,” I say.

  “And Jared,” Tyler rumbles. “We ran into her at the bar. Actually, she ran into us. Me specifically and literally.” He exchanges another look with Gram.

  “Are you hungry, child?” She points to Jace, at least I think it’s Jace. It’s hard to think straight or remember everyone’s names with Tyler standing close. Cripes, it’s like my skin is on fire, a deep scorching burn that caresses all my erogenous zones. “Back in New York, Jace was an award-winning chef,” Gram says as she beams at Jace with pride. “He’ll whip you up something delicious.”

  “Oh wow, really?” I ask, curiosity racing through me. If he was a prize chef, what brought him back to Blue Bay? I guess I can understand why Tyler is here. After losing the championship title—to my brother, no less—he returned to his roots. I’m not about to ask questions, though, or delve into their personal lives. I’m only here for a short time and really, their reasons are their own. Just like my reasons for keeping my stalker a secret are mine alone.

  As Jace makes a move to stand, I hold my hand out to stop him. “No,” I say quickly, noting the way Tyler continues to stay close, all solid strength and power and damned if I don’t like it. A lot. “I think I’m going to call it an early night and you’re all doing enough for us as it is.” I stretch my arms out. “It was a long flight and I have an early start tomorrow.”

  Carter jumps to his feet. “How about I show you to your room?”

  A noise, a growl of sorts rumbles up from behind me, and I turn to see Tyler glaring at the man standing.

  “Sit down, Carter.”

  Carter smirks and my gaze goes back and forth between the two men. Am I missing some secret joke here? Does Carter know something I don’t?

  “Sure thing, cuz.”

  Gram fills a kettle. “Don’t mind them. Too much testosterone in the room. Tyler, why don’t you get Haven settled in your room? You can bunk with Carter tonight.”

  “Have you heard him snore?” Tyler blurts out. He rakes his hand through his hair, mussing it up and damned if that doesn’t just make him look sexier. “Jesus, I need to get my own place.”

  “Language,” Gram says, and I can’t help but laugh.

  “You’re one to talk,” Carter says. “You snore loud enough to wake the dead over in Hope Falls.”

  “You want to take this outside?” Tyler asks.

  “You don’t want me to embarrass you in front of Haven, now do you?” he asks, and places both hands on the table. That’s when I notice the tattoos on his forearms. I resist the urge to scan Tyler’s body for ink.

  Tyler cracks his knuckles. “You could try.”

  Unable to help myself, I laugh. “You’re right, Gram. Too much testosterone.” I glance at Tyler. “Do you think you could show me to your room before you two take this outside?”

  “You don’t want to see the show, watch me knock your boyfriend down a peg or two?” Carter asks with a smirk.

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” I say quickly. “I just met him at Winchester’s tonight.”

  Grinning like he really does know something I don’t, Carter opens his mouth to say something, and Tyler points to him. Through clenched teeth he says, “Leave it, Carter.” Tyler turns to me, and his voice is softer when he says, “Come on, I’ll take you to your room.” He searches the floor. “Where are your bags?”

  “Jonah dropped them off earlier,” Gram says.

  Tyler glances at me. “Jonah?” he asks.

  “He’s the male lead in our movie.” Tyler’s eyes narrow, then he nods, like he just put two and two together. What, does he think I have a thing for Jonah? I have no idea how that rumor ever started, but for some reason, everyone thinks I fall for the leading man. I only did it once and that was
the worst mistake of my life. “He’s staying here too, but not in my room,” I add quickly. What the hell am I doing? Tyler doesn’t care if I’m with Jonah or not. Why I’m trying to clarify it is beyond me. “We’ll only be here until our trailers arrive. I don’t want to put you out any longer than I have to.”

  The guys at the table chuckle, and one whispers, “No worries, Ty likes to put out.”

  Gram glares at them, and runs her fingers over her knuckles. “Do I need to gristle you?”

  All the guys stiffen and sit up a little straighter, and a series of ‘hell no’ goes around the table.

  “What’s a gristle?” I ask, amused at the way Gram handles all her grandsons.

  “You don’t want to know,” Tyler says, his body bumping mine as we continue to linger in the doorway, the warm night air breezing through the place, carrying the scent of jasmine and fresh cut grass.

  “I put Jonah in Sean’s old room, and Mason is in Jamie’s,” Gram supplies. “Your bags are already in Tyler’s room, Haven.”

  Tyler gives me a little nudge, and the warmth of his flesh races through me. I bite down on my tongue to stifle a moan, or some other telltale sign that his touch, innocent or not, is messing with my traitorous body. “Come on, I’ll show you to my room,” he says.

  We head up the long staircase. “Who’s Mason?” he asks.

  “He’s the director,” I supply as I run my hand along the wooden rail. “So, Carter is your cousin?”

  “Yes.”

  “You guys all work construction?”

  “Do now.”

  I nod, understanding that Tyler was a fighter before coming home. “What did Carter do before?”

  “Firefighter.”

  “Oh, yeah, here in Blue Bay?”

  “Jacksonville.”

  “Oh, wow, nice. Did you all grow up in this place?”

  “Yes,” he says again, his feet stomping on the steps behind me.

  “It’s gorgeous.” I take in the gorgeous curve of the rail. “How long has it been in the family?”