by Izzy Slam
“That … that … gentleman you sold the property to is anything but, Uncle Roger. That’s what’s up right now.” I’m practically panting from being so pissed. I pace the floor as my uncle’s silence throws me off. “Are you still there?”
“I’m still here. I’m not quite following you. Did something happen?”
“You could say that,” I answer through gritted teeth.
“Oh Jesus … do I need to come up there alone or should I bring some friends?” Uncle Roger’s voice is low and quiet, like he’s working on controlling his temper. Yeah, I kind of inherited that from my dad’s side of the family.
I hear my aunt in the background, asking what’s going on.
“I’m pretty sure this is something that you can handle alone,” I answer.
“I’ll be the judge of that. Tell me everything that happened.”
I take a deep breath and fill him in on every detail of our conversation, my anger slowly diminishing as I feel him moving into my corner. When I’m finished, I collapse on the couch and toss an irritated glance at the window as the chainsaw roars outside.
“Um…is that all?”
My insides sink. “He called me ‘little missy,’ Uncle Roger.”
“Uh-huh?”
How can he not see what a douchebag this guy is? I stand up and walk to the living room window. “Listen, you can hear for yourself.”
I press my phone to the screen and hold it there for several seconds so he can get an earful, then bring the phone back to my ear. “That’s what I’ve been subjected to since I got here six hours ago. It’s obnoxious!”
I swear I hear my uncle laugh, but I must be wrong. I chew on the inside of my lip as I wait for his response. Surely, he will see my side of things.
“Willow, honey, he has a right to cut down his own trees. Not much I can do about that.”
I fight the urge to let out a blood curdling scream, taking several calming breaths instead because I know I won’t win my uncle over without bringing his attention to the real problem, which is how that fuckface spoke to me.
“Fine. I’ll agree that technically he has the right to do that. But what about how he insulted me? You don’t think that deserves a swift kick to the balls?”
Now I definitely hear laughter come through the phone. “Well, according to you, you did call him a meat head. Look, sweetie, your aunt and I are getting ready to head into a restaurant, so I’m going to have to hang up for now. But you call me if he says anything inappropriate or lays a hand on you. Then he’ll have me to contend with. But honestly, Hawk seemed like a stand-up guy when we met the other day. Just let him do his thing, stay out of his way, and I’m sure he won’t bother you again.”
I bite my tongue so hard is starts to bleed. I can’t believe my uncle is taking his side.
“Yeah, sure. Talk to you later.”
I end the call and toss my phone on the couch before making a beeline to the window again. There are a few moments of silence as the sunset begins to cut through the sky, and I count my lucky stars that, at the very least, I won’t have to listen to him sawing down trees at night.
Uncle Roger said his name was Hawk. What the fuck kind of name is that? It’s probably a nickname because no parent in their right mind would name their son after some flying creature.
“Hawk … Hawk…” I say his name out loud several times, as if repeating the name of my mortal enemy over and over will summon a demon to lay a curse on him.
I can’t help but giggle at the thought of actually being able to lay a curse on that rude bastard, and my stomach starts to clench from hunger.
“Welp, if you can’t beat ‘em, make dinner.”
I turn on my Bluetooth and crank up some throat metal, suddenly realizing I can drown out the noise of the chainsaw with music. I even set the speaker in the living room window, making sure it points in Hawk’s direction. Give him a little taste of his own medicine when he’s in between trees.
After pouring some pasta into a pot of boiling water, I open a can of spaghetti sauce and warm it on the stove. I think about how I’ve reacted to all this, and I know I need to work on my temper because that’s the one thing that’s always gotten me in trouble, both at school and at my last job that I was fired from. My mama always tells me that if my dad were still alive, he’d never tolerate the way I act.
Well, she’s right. I do need to be more respectful, not just to my mama but everyone else. It’s just that I feel so angry all the time, and I don’t know why. Sometimes it feels like I might lose control over my own actions. Not that I’d hurt anyone, but there have been times that I’ve nearly put my fist through the wall, having to rush to the doctor for x-rays and recommendations for anger management.
Whatever. I don’t need anger management. I just need people to stop irritating me all the time.
I plate my spaghetti dinner and toss some lettuce in a bowl for a simple salad when my Bluetooth speaker dies. As I walk to the bedroom to get the charging cable, I smile as I pass the window and hear nothing but the rustling of trees.
And then, the chainsaw.
Again.
I stop in my tracks as the rage bubbles to the surface, forcing me to clench my fists and close my eyes.
Oh my god.
I’m.
Gonna.
Lose.
My.
Shit.
Hawk
Fucking hell. I can’t believe I’m letting that mouthy brat get under my skin like this. But ever since she showed up, I’ve been iller than a hornet.
I finish limbing the felled trees, thinking about the way she pointed her hips out, her nipples pricking under that revealing top of hers, and my dick gets stiff. And that right there is the one thing that pisses me off to no end.
I know why she’s making me hard. Because I want to paddle that rear end of hers. And by “paddle” I mean bring my rough hand down on her soft, stubborn little ass. And for some ungodly reason, anytime I think about paddling a chick I get stiff as a fucking board. It was the one thing The Witch never let me do.
Fuck it. She comes around here again, she’ll get just what she deserves. I have to wonder if she kisses her mama with that mouth. And then I get to thinking about how her daddy must handle her. Come to think of it, she probably doesn’t have one because I don’t know too many fathers who would put up with that sassy rudeness. If she doesn’t have one, she needs a daddy type to keep her in line.
Well, it will have to be some other poor sucker to reel that hot pepper of a mess in because I don’t have the patience for it. I don’t have the patience for any woman right now. Fuck ‘em all.
As the sun begins to set, I realize I need to give the chainsaw a rest for the night. I set it down and remove a protein bar from my back pocket when I hear music coming from the firecracker’s direction. Sounds like a bunch of men growling and hacking into a microphone with so much bass I can’t even pick up any music.
I laugh and shake my head. That loaded pistol thinks she’s going to annoy me by playing loud music? Does she realize I won’t be able to hear a goddamn thing over my chainsaw? Good lord, I’m dealing with a brat and an airhead.
I pull the limbs aside and start loading them in my truck, and the more I have to listen to that obnoxious music coming from up the hill, the more irritated I get. Then I get irritated with myself for letting a girl ten years my junior affect my mood.
I force myself to break a smile as I finish loading my truck, trying like hell to mentally block out the noise. And just when I pick up the saw to make sure the chain brake is engaged, I hear the beautiful sound of the music stopping, silence making the smile on my face genuine.
I get a wild hair and tug the start cord, firing up the saw one last time just to send the message that I’m not done here. I’m still around. Girl needs to learn she doesn’t make the rules.
I only run the saw to the count of ten. But when I let it stop, I hear a scream that makes my blood run ice cold. My eyes grow wide as I stand there in t
he woods, dusk settling in around me as her voice cuts through the trees, the shrillness as sharp as my saw.
Shit.
I set the chainsaw down and start running, jumping over stumps, half-cut trees, and several large rocks that damn near trip me. I don’t know how long she screams for, but it seems like an eternity.
I researched this area damn good before buying the property, so I know that it’s safe as safe can be. But that doesn’t mean a jealous ex didn’t follow her here. Or that there’s some creepy-ass peeping tom hanging around.
Hell, I don’t even know if the little firecracker is staying at her uncle’s cabin alone. I just know something’s wrong. I can’t help but picture some pervert laying his hands on her, forcing her to do something she doesn’t want to do, and it ignites a fire in me. I find myself growling as my feet beat down on the worn path that leads to her cabin. And so help me god, if I get up there and find out some motherfucker is hurting her or taking what doesn’t belong to him, I will rip him in two.
Fuck, I don’t know why I’m acting all possessive, or like a give a shit. But damn if I’m not. Well, she might be a brat, but she doesn’t deserve to get hurt.
When her cabin comes into view, I notice there’s only one car in the driveway. I catch a whiff of dinner cooking as I pass by the window, but I don’t see her inside anywhere. I make it to the front door and raise my fist, beating on it three times as hard as I can, making the decision that if she doesn’t answer within ten seconds, I’m busting the goddamn thing down. Fortunately, the door swings open at the count of nine.
I notice right away the little brat hasn’t changed clothes or taken out her ponytail. In fact, the only thing that’s changed is that she’s now wearing a look of fear as opposed to anger, her eyelids raised and her lips parted.
“What the hell?” she asks.
“My sentiments exactly.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I heard screams. Are you okay?”
She huffs and tosses an arm on her hip. “Obviously I am. I … thought I saw a mouse but it was just a cockroach.”
I relax a little, peeking over her shoulder to see if there’s a man in the room. “Well, that’s good. You here alone?”
Curling her lip at me, Firecracker is making my hand twitch again. “What business is it of yours?”
It suddenly crosses my mind that she could be here with an abusive boyfriend, unable to say a word to me out of fear that he will retaliate. But I can’t exactly tell her that. If only there were some way for me to get inside the cabin and take a look around for myself, just to be sure.
“It’s not my business. But when I hear a woman screaming, I tend to make shit my business.”
“Oh, so now I’m a woman?”
“Of course you’re a—” I stop mid-sentence, remembering the last time we spoke I told her to go home and find a coloring book. The memory almost makes me chuckle right there in front of her, but only because she’s still acting childish. “Of course you’re a woman,” I finish, keeping my voice low and calm because I’m coming in this cabin to be sure there’s not some psycho hiding out, whether she likes it or not.
“Thank you. I’ll take that as your way of apologizing. You can leave now.”
I hold back the growl climbing up my throat and force a smile as she drums her fingers on the door.
“Before I leave, can I trouble you to use the restroom? I’ve been down there all day and I could really use a quick wash.”
Little brat pulls a frown and rolls her eyes. I’m sure she’s about to slam the door in my face, but surprisingly enough, she opens it wider. “I guess since you did go to the trouble of coming up here to check on me, I could let you go to the bathroom.”
“Thank you. I won’t take but a minute.”
This is a good sign. I doubt she’d let me use her bathroom if another man was here.
I step inside, and right away my stomach growls once I smell the food cooking. I glance in the kitchen as I walk past and see several pots on the stove, a bag of lettuce on the counter, a pitcher of iced tea, and on the table, a single plate of spaghetti.
Damn. She can cook? I’m actually surprised.
“Bathroom’s through the bedroom over there,” she says, pointing to the door across the room.
A single lamp illuminates the bedroom, and there’s a closet on the far wall, one of the doors slid to the side. After tossing a quick look over my shoulder to be sure she hasn’t followed me in here, I peek inside the small area. I don’t know why I think someone could be hiding in here, but it’s the only part of this tiny cabin someone could potentially disappear, if they were going to hide. A few dresses are hanging up, really small sundresses that look way too short for a grown woman. But nothing and no one appears to occupy the space.
Feeling satisfied, I head to the bathroom and take care of business, washing my hands afterwards in some floral soapy shit. As I’m drying my hands, I notice a bottle of lotion with small orange flowers on the front, and I don’t know why, but I feel compelled to smell it.
I twist the top and bring it to my nose, taking in the sweet citrus scent. I picture the little firecracker getting out of the shower and rubbing this nonsense on her damp body, and I start to get a little hard.
“Fuck.” I set the bottle back down and notice a piece of paper folded in the corner. I open it up and it looks to be a library receipt. Across the top is her name, Willow Snow, and below, a list of books she’s checked out.
“Willow,” I whisper, right as she knocks on the door.
“Hey, you about done? You’ve been in there a while.”
Pulling a face, I crumple the paper and shove it in my pocket before opening the door. “I’ve been in here all of thirty seconds.”
“Yeah, well, that’s long enough. I’d like to sit down and eat my dinner, if you don’t mind…”
“I’ll get out of your hair then.”
I stroke my beard as I wedge my way between her tiny body and the door, coming so close that my shirt brushes up against her front. I catch a faint whiff of the citrus lotion I just sniffed, and it makes my pulse quicken. She stares up at me with these big blue eyes that are so fucking beautiful it makes me want to become violent.
I have to get out of this cabin before she sees me getting hard. Last thing I need is to be called a pervert.
I hear her footsteps behind me as I approach the front door, a very small part of me wishing I could try her spaghetti, just to see if it tastes as good as it smells. Mere curiosity, nothing more.
“Please don’t make this a habit,” she says.
“Hmm?” I turn to face her as I stand in the doorway.
“Using my bathroom. This ain’t no quickie mart.”
“Don’t worry, sweet cheeks. I don’t want to see you any more than you want to see me.” Anger flares in her eyes before I add, “Oh, and by the way, I don’t apologize to women. Not ever.”
As I barge off, I wonder how long it will take her to come to me tomorrow morning and start bitching about the noise. Because I plan to be out here at the first crack of dawn.
Willow
I can’t sleep for shit, I’m still so angry at Hawk.
I don’t apologize to women. Ever.
What a jerk!
I hope he comes back tomorrow asking to use my bathroom because I will take real pleasure in slamming the door in his damn face.
And that look he gave me as he was walking out of my bathroom? Making a point to brush up against me, like he had … intentions? I don’t know if he was trying to intimidate me or just be a jackass. But he definitely succeeded in the latter, making it easy to ignore the fact that I got a little aroused at his proximity. If he were a decent human being, I might allow myself to fantasize about sleeping with him.
About giving him my virginity.
But he’s not worth it.
I’ve yet to meet a man who even comes close to being the type of man my dad was, who even remotely deserves to get in m
y pants.
I bet Hawk got himself a hard-on as he stared down at my half naked body, thinking about how nice it would be to get his hands on my innocent flesh and plunge his erection in my tight, wet, virgin hole. That is what most men think about, is it not? Popping 18-year-old’s cherries?
Damn. With all those muscles and facial hair, and the fact that he obviously has to prove his masculinity by cutting down trees all day, Hawk is just the type of guy who picks up a different girl every week to take advantage of. He’s easy on the eyes, I’ll give him that, so based on looks alone he could have whoever he wanted.
But given his salty attitude, they probably don’t stick around for long. I know I wouldn’t. Even if I was that type of girl to let him fuck me, I wouldn’t want to be in his presence for more than five minutes. Moot point, anyways, seeing as I want to fuck him about as much as he wants to apologize to women.
Asshole.
I finally drift off to sleep, feeling my body relax as my thoughts drift to random things. And right as I’m entering the land of the sandman, I start having a strange dream of Hawk showing back up here, saying he left something and needs to get it.
But when he walks through my door, he reaches down the front of my shorts and slides his thick finger between my puffy folds, and I wake up, legs trembling and pussy clenching like a fist. I feel an ache in my belly, and I curse myself for letting that man make an appearance in one of my sex dreams.
Grumbling, I pull the pillow over my head and roll over as I force myself to envision cows jumping over the moon until I finally fall asleep for good.
***
Morning comes way too soon, and I realize too late that I left my bedroom window open all night. Because the first thing I hear before my eyes are even open is that damn chainsaw. It’s been a while since I woke up enraged, but that’s how I greet my second day of summer vacation.
“Wonderful,” I mutter.
I sit up in bed and peek through the blinds, feeling the heat of anger float through my veins. I don’t know why I’m looking outside. It’s not like I’m going to see him. I wish I could, though, just so I could get his attention and flip him off.
