He didn’t tell me how he knew whose house it was, but it was Baylor. He had his ways, and I never questioned him because he wouldn’t tell me anyway.
I flipped him off, and started to turn around to head inside, when the front door of the house I’d been studying opened.
Then she was there, in a pair of sweatpants, an old t-shirt that looked to be from high school with her ‘Pirate Volleyball’ on it, and tube socks that were slouched down around her ankles.
It was the least sexy thing any woman could wear, but on her? She totally fucking rocked it.
“Goddamn,” I muttered.
Baylor started to laugh, and I tossed him a glare. “Fuck you.”
“You’ve always had the hots for her, TC.”
I rolled my eyes at Baylor’s old nickname for me.
I didn’t know why, but during school, everyone always called me by my full name—Tate Casey. They never, ever shortened it, or only used Tate. Everyone but Baylor, that was. He shortened it to TC, and I’d let him.
Now, I wasn’t sure why I allowed him to do half the things he did.
But whatever.
I walked through the house with an experienced eye, calculating what I would need to do to make this place livable for the time being.
The summer of my junior year, and the entire year of my senior, I’d worked for a construction business fixing up houses almost exactly like this one. In that year and a half, I’d learned a lot, and had continued to do it on my own when I was on leave from the military.
Then, when I’d gotten out of the Marines, and started working with Travis at Hail Auto Recovery, I’d done it on my days off. At first, it’d started out as a hobby, but then had turned into a side business as I started flipping houses on my own.
So no, this wouldn’t be my first rodeo.
But it would be my toughest.
“This is going to be a disaster,” I said. “But the inside structure is solid,” I pointed to the studs I’d exposed when I’d ripped a piece of paneling off. “The support structure is good, too. The only thing I’m worried about at this point is the roof, but I can have that knocked out by Wednesday next week if I can get a dumpster out here by Monday.”
“I’m sure you can make it happen, buddy,” Baylor agreed from the other room. “Do you want me to get rid of this?”
I looked at him.
In his hands was a snake, about four feet in length. It was harmless, a rat snake, but where a rat snake was, usually indicated there were rats.
“Fuck,” I grumbled. “Yeah, go ahead and throw him outside. We’ll see if we can plug whatever hole he came through.”
Baylor started to laugh.
I sighed and growled under my breath.
“I’m going to have to pull the RV over here and live out of it. There’s no way in hell this is livable until then.”
“Has running water, at least.”
I looked at where Baylor turned the water on, and winced.
“Doesn’t have any plumbing, though.” I pointed out when water started to leak out of the drain pipe underneath the sink.
“Oops,” Baylor burst out a laugh.
I ignored the water and continued the inspection.
Then I drafted Baylor’s help in getting the RV out to the house and set up.
Lucky for me, Baylor was a licensed electrician in his spare time, because by the end of the night, I had power to the RV, as well as a few plugs in the house we were able to wire in about four hours’ time.
And not once did I think about my new neighbor.
Also, I was a liar.
Chapter 8
That face you make when you go back and read the texts you sent in a fit of anger.
-Text from Hennessy to Krisney
Hennessy
I laid in my bed, looking at the ceiling, for well over an hour before I’d finally had enough.
This shit had to stop.
Tomorrow was a Friday, sure, but I still had to be up at the crack of dawn. A patient could only see me on Friday mornings before work, which meant I had to get up at six, to get to the office at seven, to see him by seven fifteen.
Getting up early was not conducive with getting no sleep.
Which was why, as I threw the covers off of me, and stood up, I decided that this loud music couldn’t go on. Not to mention the occasional whine of a saw, or the tap-tap of a hammer.
I couldn’t do it anymore.
I was on the block with one other house, and that house had been rocking since the new occupants had moved into it three days ago.
At first, I understood the noise. The house itself needed a lot of freakin’ work.
But that work didn’t need to be going on at twelve o’clock at night.
Reaching down onto the floor for my sweatpants, I pulled them on, then walked in my slouchy socks that I’d stolen from Krisney, who’d stolen them from Reed Hail when we were in high school, out the door of my house.
I made it down the steps, and to the front walk, when I realized that I’d forgotten shoes.
But I didn’t care.
I was too mad at this point to care if I had shoes or not.
I was a determined woman, and this shit was about. To go. Down.
The closer I got to the sound of the saws and the music, the more I realized that maybe I wasn’t as brave as I thought.
What if this man was a killer? What if he was a woman hater…what if he…
“What are you doing here at twelve in the morning?”
I looked up to find the last man I ever thought I’d see steps away from the stupid saw that was making so much noise in the middle of the night.
My neighborhood was very quiet at night…usually.
It was the road that led to downtown, and since downtown was closed after about eight in the evening, most of the time I barely heard anything.
There were two houses on the entire road, mine, and the one that the man was standing in the doorway of.
“I’m here,” I said, licking my suddenly dry lips, “because I have to be up at the butt crack of dawn, and you’re over here making a lot of noise…though I didn’t know it was you who was making the noise.”
Tate’s lips twitched, and he held open the door.
“What’s too loud, my music?”
I followed him when he disappeared inside, and stayed on his heels the entire way, even though I wanted nothing more than to inspect every inch of the home I found myself now standing in.
“Your music, and whatever saw thing you keep using that makes a loud ‘zinging’ noise each time you use it,” I explained loudly so I could be heard over the roar of the radio.
He was in the process of turning down the music, so the last two words of my sentence were very loud in the sudden silence.
He grinned and I blushed, immediately turning away so my eyes didn’t take him in.
It was a useless endeavor, though.
Every single solid inch of the man was burned into my brain.
Tonight, he was wearing a pair of jeans, brown work boots, and that was it.
He was dripping sweat, and I wanted nothing more but to lick one of the droplets off with my mouth.
I refrained, however, but only just barely.
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize it was loud enough for you to hear it.”
I immediately went into ‘it’s okay’ mode.
“It’s okay,” I lied, dancing from one foot to the other. “Well, see ya.”
And that was how I started walking out the door, and ended up hitting my head on something I never saw coming.
Come to find out, it was a ladder.
***
“Hey, girl.”
I blinked open an eye and stared up into a man’s beautiful eyes, wondering if I’d died and gone to Heaven.
“I like your beard,” I told him. “It’s nice.”
I brought my hand up to r
un over said beard, and liked how soft it was. You wouldn’t think it was soft, though. Not with the way the rest of him was so hard, but it was.
“Thanks,” he grinned. “How’s your head feeling?”
I blinked, then thought about that question for a little bit.
“The top of it feels like I shaved it with a cheese grater,” I told him.
“Why would you know what it feels like to be shaved with a cheese grater?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.
The movement made his Adam’s apple bob, and I wondered if it’d be weird to suck it.
Probably.
“Why are you looking at my neck like that?” he asked.
I blushed and returned my eyes to his. Which was the wrong move.
The man was laughing at me, and that made my back straighten as my cranky bitch came out to play.
I was not a nice person when I didn’t get enough sleep. Never had been.
Even to Krisney.
She’d made the mistake of waking me from a nap one time, and one time only, and we were lucky to still be friends seeing as I threw an entire can of Dr. Pepper at her that I’d been drinking before I’d nodded off. This had been during college where we’d shared a dorm room, and she’d not come home for two days in fear that I’d retaliate in some way.
I’d, of course, felt freakin’ horrible.
“Nothing,” I lied. “And the cheese grater?” I winced. “When I was in college, I was dancing drunk on a table with a chandelier made of metal stuff. Part of it had holes in it that gave this decorative effect on the floor beneath it. When I was dancing, I thought it’d be a wonderful thing to start jumping…you can see where this is going.”
He blinked innocently. “No, I can’t. Please finish.”
I rolled my eyes and said, “I started jumping up and down, and one of those times I guess I did it high enough that I reached the chandelier. I scraped off the top of my head, and the very edge of my forehead.”
He frowned. “Your hair seems to cover the spots just fine.”
I shifted my bangs—that I grew out specifically to hide the lovely designs on my forehead—and showed him my scars.
He whistled between his teeth. “Groovy scar.”
I smiled, but it didn’t reach my eyes.
“Thank you for turning it down,” I said, making my way to stand.
He helped me to my feet and looked down at me.
That was when I realized that not only was he now shirtless, he was also pantless.
“You’re…” I hesitated, searching for the right words. “You’re nearly naked.”
He nodded.
“I pressed the pant leg against your scalp to stop the bleeding.” He paused. “I didn’t have anything else to use.”
That was when I realized that I was still clutching his pants in my hands.
I offered them to him, but the moment I did, I felt a fresh wave of blood ooze down my forehead.
“Dangit,” I grumbled, putting it back. “Is it bad?”
He shrugged. “It’ll stop eventually. You just took the top layer of skin off the side of your forehead.
Wonderful. Just freakin’ great. Perfect.
“I have a date today,” I moaned. “He’s going to love seeing this.”
Something changed in his complexion, and I blinked, trying to ascertain what it was. The moment that I did, he smoothed out his features into an impenetrable stare.
“Who’s the date with?” he questioned.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s a blind date set up by Krisney. Since she’s back, she’s determined to have me dating again.”
“Again?” he questioned. “You mean you stopped at one point?”
I nodded. “I did. At first, I dated a few men from the church, but since they go there, my dad is always in the back of their minds. They treat me like I’m a kid, or a woman who’s a preacher’s daughter, then wonder why I don’t enjoy the date.”
He started to chuckle, and it was then I realized that I’d been staring at his abs, which jumped when he laughed. Which were mighty close to the boxer briefs he was wearing. Which covered his impressive…
I looked away again, my mind really starting to run.
Oh, God. He had a big cock. He was also not hard.
What would it look like if he…I shut down those thoughts again.
“You’re dating the wrong guys then,” he pointed out. “If you were dating the right ones, they wouldn’t give a fuck who your father was. They’d be caring about who you were.”
I smiled, and the move made my forehead throb, which reminded me that I was standing in the middle of the man’s kitchen—which might I add was going to be fantastic when he was done—with his pants pressed to my forehead.
I dropped the pants from my head and handed them back.
When I felt the drop start, I brought the tail of my shirt up, thankful that I was wearing a stretchy one, and pressed it to my head.
“I’ll see you around, Tate.”
He watched me go, not stopping me this time, and I found myself disappointed.
I wanted him to ask me to stay, but even I knew how stupid that would be.
I was the daughter of a man who hated his guts, and he was the man who hated my father.
I wasn’t fond of my father, either, but he was still my father.
That would never change.
And even if it did, which I knew it wouldn’t, Tate would never go for a girl like me.
Chapter 9
Here’s a condom. I thought since you were acting like a dick, you might want to dress like one.
-Tate to Hennessy’s date
Tate
It was purely coincidental that we ended up at the same place to eat twice that week.
It also saved her life.
This time I was with Baylor instead of Ariya.
Hennessy most definitely wasn’t with Krisney.
“Aren’t you tired of tacos yet?” Baylor asked.
I shook my head. “Not really.”
I fucking loved the tacos here. They also had a hamburger for the days that someone wasn’t feeling tacos. It was made out of buffalo, however, and it took some getting used to.
I loved it now, though.
I was eating three tacos, as well as the burger, and inhaling the chips and queso that we’d gotten when she walked in with him.
I didn’t know the man. In fact, I’d never seen him before in my life.
But I could tell with just one glance what kind of man he was.
One that her father would approve of.
“You want anything else to drink?”
The same server that I’d repossessed the car from served us, and I could tell within seconds that Baylor was nervous as hell.
He kept watching her like she was about to burst into tears at any moment, and if Hennessy hadn’t been sitting two tables over with her date, I would’ve found it humorous.
However, I couldn’t find anything humorous when I knew the moment they walked in that this date had the recipe for disaster in the making.
“I’d love another beer,” Baylor muttered to his nearly empty mug. “Thanks.”
His muttered reply had me smiling, despite wanting to lean over the empty table in between Hennessy and I and pull her into my lap.
“You’re being transparent,” I said the minute she left. “You got it bad for the girl?”
Baylor raised his lip in a silent snarl. “Go fuck yourself right off a fuckin’ cliff.”
“Inventive.” I chuckled.
“Fuck you.”
I rolled my eyes, and they landed on Hennessy.
She was staring at me, but the moment our eyes met, she quickly looked away.
“Speaking of being transparent,” Baylor drawled. “You couldn’t have it any worse right now.”
I flipped him off and picked up my drink, putting it to my lips, and taking a heal
thy sip before replying, “I probably could,” I admitted. “But I won’t.”
“Sure, you won’t,” he countered. “Just like I don’t have it bad for a girl that has trouble written all over her.”
That was the truth. We were both screwed.
“Here you go,” the waitress said. “Anything else?”
I shook my head, and she left as if being there any longer would cause her to say something she might regret.
It made me want to laugh. Especially when I saw the anger written all over Baylor’s face.
“How’s your house coming?”
I shrugged. “Can’t get much done at night anymore.”
“Why?”
My eyes slid over to the woman.
“She came over last night, well this morning, and complained about the noise. Since I don’t get off until sometime after eight most nights, I don’t have very much time to work on it.”
He grunted in understanding.
“Get up early.”
I thought about that for a moment, and immediately discarded that idea.
“Got enough of that in prison,” I admitted. “The idea of getting up earlier than eight o’clock literally makes me want to puke up these awesome tacos.”
Baylor snorted. “You’re so full of shit.”
I was.
I wasn’t going to throw up, but I damn sure wasn’t going to entertain the thought of getting up early. Staying up late was easy. Getting up earlier than eight, to be into work by eight thirty, wasn’t something I was willing to consider.
“Do you like to eat tacos?”
I looked over at hearing Hennessy’s date ask her that, and got to watch her stuff half of her taco into her mouth.
“Yes,” she said through a mouthful of food.
“I could take them or leave them,” her new friend admitted. “I’m more into refined food. Food you have to eat with a fork and a knife.”
“Like steak?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Negative.”
Her brows went up.
“You don’t like steak?”
He shook his head again. “I’m a vegan.”
Hennessy’s eyebrows furrowed.
“Would you like any more?” the waitress asked.
“Yes,” Hennessy whispered. “Thank you, Lark.”
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