She cried a little while longer in silence before she felt ready to talk.
“He told me to get rid of it,” she sobbed. “When I told him I wouldn’t, he said he’d do it for me. I promised I’d take good care of the baby, but he didn’t care. He beat me worse than he ever had in the past.” She pulled her top down and I saw her body was covered in bruises. “I was so scared. When he passed out drunk, I took his car keys and drove as fast as possible out of Seattle.”
I hadn’t cried about anything since my dog died in sixth grade, but now I felt tears prickling in my eyes. I blinked them away as I suppressed the fury building in my veins that anyone could treat a woman and baby like that. Seeing the mottle of blue fading to brown across her swollen breasts, the damage someone’s temper had done to her, vomit bit at the back of my throat. I steadied myself, knowing right now it would be easy to spook her if she felt my anger, even though it wasn’t directed at her.
“You definitely need to see a doctor about the baby. I’ll set up an appointment and I’ll take you tomorrow.”
She shook her head. “I can’t pay for it!”
“You won’t need to.”
“Really, you can’t do this,” she protested. Oh, she didn’t know me at all. She could deny it all she wanted, but she was a damsel in distress in need of help to sort her life out. And I enjoyed taking control and making things work better for everyone.
“I can, and I will. And you’re going to do the responsible thing for your baby and graciously accept.” I don’t know why it irked me so much, but I hated the thought of leaving her in this state. She’d come so far, and now she needed some extra help.
“I don’t want to be a burden,” she whispered.
“You’re not. I’m sure I can get a tax refund or something.”
She giggled a little at that. Good. I suspected when she wasn’t wrong-footed and on the run, and scared of being in the way besides, that she had a killer sense of humor.
Then and there I made a decision. Miss City Girl was staying with me. Clay had built his own house next door a few years back, so I lived alone in this one, which used to be our family home.
Jake and Barrett had their own places too—Barrett’s was the other side of Clay’s, but Jake’s place was by the stables because he liked to keep an eye on things. I wouldn’t be inconveniencing anyone to let Alana stay in the guestroom a while longer. She reminded me of someone I’d known years ago.
I hadn’t been able to help Skylar, the girl I’d been close with through high school. She’d always been a bit of a bad girl, and I’d been drawn to her. The moment she turned eighteen, she’d taken off with a real jerk and it had broken my heart to know I couldn’t change her mind. Couldn’t protect her. I had tried to talk her out of it, tried to make her understand it wasn’t okay for him to hit her, or to speak so rudely to her when they were out together, but she just wouldn’t listen. This was my second chance and I was going to do it right, this time.
In all honesty, I didn’t want Alana to think I was a creeper, so I decided to let her get used to the place before telling her I’d like her to stay here until the baby was born. We’d only known each other a few hours and it might come off as weird if I came out with it straight away. But I wanted to help her, and it didn’t sound like she’d gotten a lot of breaks in life, lately.
Sometimes, I saw things that were wrong with the world and I just wanted to make them right. I couldn’t solve world hunger or the other big problems, but I could help a woman and unborn baby who were down on their luck. Perhaps one day she’d be in a position to pay it forward.
* * *
Alana
Lawson cooked dinner and it was simple but good. Afterwards, he left me alone for the night and I decided to get some rest and make the most of sleeping in a real bed. The moment my head hit the pillow, however, my mind awoke with all sorts of worries and doubts. I’d never heard complete and total silence at night before and I think my ears were confused, my nerves on high alert for noises that never came. No sirens. No shouting zombies trying to score more meth. No passing cars. No music. All those little noises that were the snores of a living city at night. It should have been calming, but it was going to take some getting used to.
He kept looking at me in that specific way guys looked at someone they were attracted to. Eyes lingering on the boobs a little longer than usual, when he thought I wasn’t looking. I liked the way his face was so animated, regardless of whether he was talking or listening. I’d always thought that was the sign of a really good listener. Jimbo had been the worst listener on the planet. How had he not even noticed I was pregnant for five months? God, I felt so stupid for ever moving in with him. Ever speaking to him.
Lawson was different. He was a refreshing change from the sort of people my life had revolved around over the past six months. Lawson was clean-cut in the important ways—he had a legitimate livelihood, his own home, furniture and close family ties. But the way he moved, the way he looked at me, both said he could be totally filthy when he chose to be. That combination in one man was almost too much to handle. He had an air about him that suggested he liked taking charge, and I was a complete sucker for a guy who wanted to be in control.
What was I thinking? Appraising him, like we could ever do anything together? I was going to be a single mother in about four months’ time, and I couldn’t exactly pay my own way. Not only that, I’d been so stupid when it came to Jimbo. I wasn’t really a catch right now. I was a hot mess. And this kind, sexy-as-hell cowboy deserved so much better than me. What use would a barely-employable pregnant artist be on a ranch, anyway?
Ugh. If only we somehow lived in a different universe where this could actually work. If he raised that brow at me again I might throw myself at him. Still, this was a nice place to hide out for a day or two while I figured out where to go from here—and I didn’t just mean which direction to drive in.
When I finally fell asleep, I dreamed of a hot cowboy making me stand to attention for a panties inspection. I failed miserably, so I had to bend over for a paddling, which he delivered firmly while my pussy continued to gush.
* * *
Alana
My resolve to not fuck things up by dropping my panties lasted all the way through breakfast the next morning, despite numerous hurdles.
The first issue was that I woke up with so much liquid between my legs that I thought I might have had an accident in the night. Being conscientious and having been given an open invitation to use the shower whenever I wanted, I picked up the towel Lawson had thoughtfully left me and I waddled to the bathroom. Never had I felt so unattractive in my whole life, which was sort of laughable because I was also aching for release.
Closing the bathroom door, I turned on the shower and waited for it to warm up before I got in. There wasn’t much in the way of toiletries, but I didn’t care at that moment. I stepped under the water and let it soothe my tightly-wound body, watching my tension trickling down the drain. There was a bar of soap and a bottle of cheap shampoo on the shelf, so I covered myself in the soap, paying extra attention to that sticky mess between my legs. I was just trying to get at the crease in between my pussy lips and my thighs when the bathroom door opened.
“Oh, shit! Sorry!” came Lawson’s voice.
I jumped, screamed and slipped over. I’d been a klutz even before I was pregnant, but with a weird center of gravity and mysterious changes in all my joints, I was now about as graceful as a drunk rhinoceros. I landed heavily on my ass but somehow my legs tangled and got stuck under me.
“Are you okay?” he asked, voice filled with concern.
Before I could answer, he’d flung the shower doors open. I squeaked with embarrassment. Letting him see me naked was not on my to-do list for today.
“I see you’re having a good time,” he remarked, his eyes looking straight at my hand that was now pinned between my legs. Of course that was the first thing he’d noticed.
“It’s stuck,” I mumbl
ed, wishing the floor would open up and make me disappear. At least I could tell myself my flushed face was from the hot water.
“Would you like a hand?” he sounded like he was trying not to laugh at my predicament.
That was too far. I wrenched my hand out from between my legs with all the strength I could muster. It was still holding the soap, so I threw it at him.
“See? I helped!” he said with a wink, not even flinching as the soap bounced off his perfectly-shaped right pectoral and fell to the floor. As my eyes followed the soap’s descent, I realized Lawson was only wearing his boxers. Oh, geez, this was awkward. And he was even hotter without his clothes on.
“Meh—buh—guh—frrrrr—” I stuttered incoherently, trying to sound like I had this situation under control even though I clearly didn’t.
“Let’s get you back on your feet,” he murmured, and I heard no judgement in his voice.
His hands went under my shoulders, and just like yesterday, he lifted me up as if I weighed nothing. He kept his arms there to steady me, and I’d been balanced on my feet for about five seconds before I realized his palms were touching my breasts.
Our eyes met for a brief moment but I couldn’t hold his gaze.
“Sorry. And thanks,” I mumbled.
“No problem. At least you didn’t drop the soap.” It was a terrible joke but dear God I needed to laugh right then, so I was glad he’d said something that made me giggle. “I’m going to try and be a gentleman now, and leave you to finish showering, but if you need me, just holler.”
I was determined not to call him back in here even if I got the soap stuck up my ass.
But dear sweet Jesus, it felt so good to wash myself thoroughly after living in the car for so long.
Chapter 3
Alana
By breakfast, I was about ready to move back into my car. After I’d finished with the shower, I had discovered a new problem. My clothes were disgusting, since I’d worn them since the night I’d left Seattle. I couldn’t bring myself to wear them again, but I didn’t have anything else to put on. I looked around the guestroom for a bathrobe or similar, but there was nothing. I decided to check the bathroom. Wrapped in my white bath towel, I shoved the door open. The first thing I saw was Lawson’s perfect body being pounded with droplets of water. The glass wasn’t steamed up at all and I couldn’t help taking in his rippling back muscles leading down to the most squeezable ass I’d ever seen.
“Hey! At least I apologized!” he grumbled over his shoulder.
“Why are you taking a cold shower?” I asked. His muscles... oh my God. Maybe it was just the pregnancy hormones, but I really wanted to lick him.
“You’re killing me here! Can’t a guy cool off in peace?” His voice sounded so strained. “How’d you figure it was a cold shower, anyhow?”
“No steam on the glass. I’m an artist. We notice things like that.” I took the moment of silence to inspect the back of the bathroom door. No robe there, either. I needed to get out of here before I bent over and begged him to pound me with his cock. “Well, I’d better leave you alone. Sorry I interrupted your morning Zen ritual or whatever this is.”
“This is a fancy place! We only do that sort of thing on Saturdays,” he teased back.
“Today’s Saturday,” I replied smoothly, giggling as he sighed and mumbled something about how there was no arguing with a woman.
I left the bathroom and sat in my room for several minutes wondering what to do about the clothing situation. I was feeling brave, and he was in the shower for the time being, so I decided it wouldn’t be awful if I raided his room for something to wear. Looking at his build, there had to be a t-shirt or something in there that would fit my belly.
I sneaked into his room. It was obvious which one he slept in because the others were all like my guestroom—neat but not full of all those personal touches that screamed, “someone lives here”. The room opposite mine, however, was scattered with photos. Lawson and three other guys. I recognized one of them as Jake, the guy who’d brought my car back from the gas station, although I hadn’t seen him since then. No women in any of the photos, except one aged and faded picture of two young boys, maybe eight or nine, with a woman who was clearly their mom. Everyone had haircuts from the nineties, so I guessed this was a photograph of Lawson’s childhood. He looked happy. I wondered who had taken the photo. His dad?
Deciding my brain was being way too curious about this, I turned my attention back to the closet. There were four shirts hanging in there, all looking like they belonged to a lumberjack. I picked the yellow and black plaid shirt, and took it back to my room before putting it on. Unwrapping the towel in Lawson’s bedroom was just tempting fate, and after our two encounters this morning I just wanted to keep a low profile for the rest of the day. The shirt was comfy and baggy, covering my ass and reaching down a few inches past my pussy at the front. Win. Finally, some part of today was coming up Alana.
I took a few minutes to comb out my hair with my fingers and try to get it to stop dripping. He’d had no conditioner, so my locks were pretty much doomed to being porous and frizzy today.
* * *
Lawson
She was a voodoo lady and she was trying to kill me. First, I saw her naked and found out she had the best curves I’d ever seen in my life. And why had the soap been between her legs? Was she really so starved for attention down there? Despite the fact she was clearly pregnant, everything about her screamed “innocent virgin” and it didn’t tally with her past at all. She’d been shacked up with some sort of criminal but she didn’t seem like the kind of girl who would do that. Had she been rebelling against her parents or something? But she seemed old enough to have outgrown that years ago.
Seeing more of the bruises mottling her body was infuriating. I wanted to find that son of a bitch and castrate him. To start with. But since he wasn’t here the best way I could channel my energy was in helping Alana and making sure she got checked over by a physician. Some of those bruises were in places that might have caused serious injuries and I was a little shocked that she hadn’t taken herself to an ER sooner, although I understood her need to get as far away as possible.
I let the cold shower calm my blood again. She was hot and sweet and funny all rolled into one irresistible package. The way she’d reacted when I’d accidentally walked in on her suggested she was interested in me, too. It was going to be difficult not to throw her down and fuck her but I was adamant I’d give her space to get over what had happened. I held onto the fact that next time I saw her, she would be fully-clothed.
I dried off quickly, hearing her moving around her room as I went into mine. I opened the dresser and frowned. I was sure my yellow and black shirt had been in there. Guess I’d have to wear something else. I picked the red and navy blue plaid shirt instead, and shrugged it on, throwing my jeans on quickly and fastening my belt so I could get downstairs and start breakfast.
The first thing I did was turn on the radio. I liked a few different types of music, but when I woke up, I liked listening to country music. Soon the reassuring tones of That Girl’s A Cowboy filled the kitchen.
I put on coffee and got out the eggs and bacon to fry. I was holding two eggs in one hand when she walked in wearing my missing yellow and black plaid shirt. It barely covered her pussy at the front, and the way it hinted at her breasts and curves made me stop dead and stare.
It wasn’t until she was walking toward me, looking at the floor by my feet, that I realized I’d dropped the eggs.
“Here, let me get that,” she murmured, and her voice was husky with desire. I literally shook my head in an attempt to snap out of it.
“Go sit at the table. There’s no way I’m letting you clean this up.” My words were harder than I’d intended. Something about the tone seemed to make Alana immediately obey, however, and I was surprised to see her hurrying away to the table.
Interesting. From her earlier behavior I expected her to sass me. When I caught a g
limpse of her face, she seemed content. It was almost too much to hope for, that she might like it when I took control. I filed it away as potentially useful information for the future.
* * *
Alana
I was on the stairs when I heard strains of country music coming from the kitchen. I mean, we were on a ranch, so it fit, but it made this whole setup feel especially surreal, for some reason. In my life in Seattle I think I could count on one hand the amount of times I’d heard stuff like this playing. I was not in Kansas, anymore. Although this was probably popular in Kansas, too.
When I walked into the kitchen, he dropped the eggs he was holding. I’m not sure what I’d done, since I was just dressed in one of his shirts, my hair still damp from the shower, wearing no make-up or shoes. It was too early in my day; I wasn’t even trying to look like a human yet, let alone like a sexy human. That came after coffee.
The tone he’d used when I tried to help him spoke to something deep inside me and I found myself obeying instead of arguing that I could help. And I wanted to help. Instead I was sitting at the kitchen table wondering how to make sense of why I just did exactly what he’d told me.
Jimbo had often talked to me like I was stupid, or yelled at me to do things when he didn’t think I was doing them fast enough, but I’d always followed his directions resentfully, like I knew there was something wrong with the way he just ordered me about. Lawson’s direct command should have set me on edge; it should have been a warning sign, but instead, as I sat there, I felt my pussy twitch.
That was when I remembered I didn’t have any underwear on. I’d tuned it out for a few minutes but now it was front and center of my mind.
“So... do you have a washing machine?” I asked. Could I ask that as a houseguest or was it assumptive and rude? I didn’t even know.
“Sure. Is that why you appropriated my favorite shirt?”
Oh no. He’d dropped the eggs and told me to sit down because I’d annoyed him by taking his shirt without asking. Of course. Why had I let my imagination get the better of me?
Tie Me Down: Arizona Heat Book 1 Page 2
