by Leo, Cassia
Edie runs her fingers over a white shabby chic wooden headboard, which looks like a queen. “This is nice, don’t you think?”
“Miss Bryant, I really don’t feel comfortable accepting a queen-sized bed and mattress. That’s too expensive. Can’t we just wait until we get another twin bed in stock? Or until I’ve saved up some of my own money?”
Edie glances at the woman with a baby then cocks a penciled eyebrow at me. “You think she’s looking at that bed for herself? She’s getting that for her baby girl. You are not a baby girl. And you sure as heck aren’t gonna make any babies in a twin size bed.”
The sound of laughter comes at me from both directions, the blonde woman with the baby on my right and a sandy-haired man who just entered the aisle on our left. Heat rises in my cheeks. This tall, sexy stranger — with eyes so icy-blue they look demonic — just laughed at the idea of me failing to get knocked up in a twin bed.
I hyper-focus my attention on Edie. “Okay, we can get this one. I’ll put it in my truck after my shift. I’m just gonna go back to minding the register. I think I see somebody headed in that direction,” I say, keeping my head down as I walk past the insanely gorgeous man with the demon eyes.
His gaze seems to follow me as I pass. “Can I get some help with this, ma’am?”
I turn on my heel to face him, and something about the way this man stares at me with such intensity makes the hairs on my neck stand up. “Of course. How can I help you, sir?”
He gazes back at me unblinking for a long moment before he responds. “I’m looking for any old wood doors you might have. Fixing to turn it into a headboard.”
I don’t know if it’s his icy-blue eyes, or if the way they seem to penetrate my soul, but something about this man gives me an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach — and maybe a little tingling in other parts. “Sure,” I reply cheerily. “We have the construction scraps in the warehouse area. Follow me.”
We walk silently for a bit through the dining furniture section until we pass through the wide entryway, which opens into The Junk Drawer’s warehouse space. The warehouse is not as intensely air-conditioned as the retail space. Instead, loud industrial fans blow downward from the twenty-foot high rafters.
“Are you looking for anything specific?” I ask. “Are you looking for a wood slab door, a shuttered door, something a bit more ornate? Are you doing this for a client? Do you have a picture of something you’re looking for?”
He smiles, revealing perfectly straight, pearly-white teeth. “Actually, I am looking for something very specific, but it’s not for a client. It’s for me.”
I give him a moment to respond as I continue toward the door section in the back corner of the warehouse, but he doesn’t elaborate. “I would sure like to know what that is if you don’t mind telling me.” And it better not be my phone number. I sneak a glance at him and glimpse his striking blue eyes again. On second thought, it better be my phone number. Please, let it be my phone number.
I left Vegas seven and a half weeks ago, and before that, I hadn’t had sex in about three months. I’m approaching half a year without sex, and it is driving me insane. I miss my FWB — friend with benefits — Pablo Macias, the Spanish transfer student I befriended in my freshman statistics class. Pablo was always there for me when I was in the midst of a dry spell. It’s funny the things you don’t realize you’ll miss when you make a split second decision to leave your entire life behind.
I wonder what Tiff’s doing right now.
“What kind of accent is that? You don’t sound like you’re from around here,” he remarks.
“Do I detect a note of regionalism in your voice?” In that deep, sexy country boy voice.
He chuckles. “Do I detect a note of deflection in yours? And I sure as hell ain’t no regionalist. I just moved here from Tennessee.”
Tennessee? Of course, he had to be from the place I have claimed as my fake home-state.
I don’t want to let on that I’m uncomfortable with this line of questioning. I’ve fabricated a pretty solid fake backstory for Jolene Fisher, and I think I’ve done an excellent job of keeping the details straight. But I suddenly have a strong feeling this guy — and his sexy demon eyes — may have the power to make me slip up. I have to remember to be careful with everyone I meet, no matter how horny I am.
I turn to him as we arrive at the door section. “I just moved here, too. From Pigeon Forge.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “Really? I’ve been through there at least a dozen times on the way to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. I took a pretty indecent picture with Hugh Hefner at the wax museum, back when I was a dumb kid.”
I shrug as I turn away to look at the doors. “I wouldn’t know anything about that. I never visited the wax museum. I’m really more of a homebody,” I reply casually as I point out a large Shaker-style solid wood door covered in peeling mint-green paint. “Is something like this what you’re looking for? It’s big enough for a king-sized bed. Probably can be shortened if you have a queen.”
He stares at me for a while with a curious smile on his gorgeous face. “I have a king, but I reckon I can tighten it up. This’ll do.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Well, alrighty then. That was easy. Do you need someone to help you load it into your vehicle? Or do you want to schedule a delivery? We deliver within a ten-mile radius.”
“Actually, I don’t need any help, but I’m thinking you might,” he says, taking a step back to put a little more distance between us.
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”
“I obviously overheard that conversation you were having with your boss about needing a bed. I was just going to offer to help deliver it to your house. I have an F-350 parked outside, and I think you and I might be neighbors.”
I squint my eyes at him. “Neighbors? I haven’t even moved in yet. How would you know if we’re neighbors?”
His eyes widen as he seems to pick up on my suspicion. “Oh, I’m not stalking you or anything like that. I just noticed your truck pulling into the driveway next to the house I just bought off Lakeside Way.”
“I’m the only property on Lakeside Way,” I correct him. “My nearest neighbor is Ms. Bryant, and she lives around the corner from me on Waterside.”
“Actually, I’m in the cabin on the lake about three hundred feet from yours. You can access my house from the private drive off Waterside, but the driveway’s not labeled.”
My mouth goes dry as I recall feeling as if I was being watched the last time I paid a middle-of-the-night visit to my newly purchased home. “Nobody is supposed to live in that cabin. I mean — I didn’t know it was for sale.”
“It was a private sale,” he replies, his eyes locked on mine as if he’s studying my reaction.
“Have you been watching me?”
He chuckles a bit, then he immediately stops when he realizes I’m serious. “Oh, you’re serious? I only saw your truck pulling in once, but it’s a very distinctive truck.”
A gush of shame douses the flame of suspicion as I realize he only had to see my beat-up brown Ford Ranger once for it to be burned into his memory. “Oh, sure. Um... Actually, I won’t be needing any help. Thank you for offering...neighbor.” Neighbor?! “What did you say your name was?”
He smiles at the change in my tone. “I didn’t say, but it’s Colton. Colton Walker.”
I’m a bit disappointed he didn’t attempt to shake my hand, but that’s probably just my burning loins aching for a man’s touch.
“Did you find what you were looking for, young man?”
I spin around to face Edie, my heart thumping wildly as if I’ve just been caught kissing a boy on the front doorstep. “Oh, hey, Ms. Bryant. Colton would like to purchase this door, but he says he won’t need any help with loading or delivery.”
“I was just offering the young lady my labor services to help out with that mattress purchase. Save you two some delivery costs now that I’m your n
ew neighbor,” Colton replies, as if I didn’t just tell him I won’t be needing his help.
Edie claps her hands together in excitement. “That would be wonderful! Are you the one who bought the old Wilson cabin across the road?”
“Yes, ma’am. That would be me.”
Edie’s eyes are as wide as grapefruits. “Did you hear that, Jo? We have a new neighbor. You both should come over on Sunday! We’re having a potluck after services. But don’t you worry about a thing. You don’t have to bring anything except your beautiful faces.” She turns to me, ready to cut me off. “I’ll make some extra corn fritters for you. I know how much you love those.”
Colton looks at me as if he’s waiting for me to respond for both of us. “I don’t know. Jo said she’s a bit of homebody. I wouldn’t want to cramp her lifestyle.”
I roll my eyes to hide the excitement that bubbles up inside me at the thought of doing something neighborly with sexy Colton Walker. “I don’t think I’ll have time,” I say regretfully. “I have a lot of cleaning and painting that needs to be done just to make the new house livable. Can I get a raincheck for the next potluck?”
Edie points her bony finger at me. “I’m gonna hold you to that,” she says, turning back to Colton. “Now, let’s get you checked out. Then, we’ll close up shop early so we can go get Jo’s bed. This is so exciting!”
Maybe I’m being paranoid, but it feels like Edie and Colton are conspiring to get me laid.
We decide that Colton’s door will be loaded into my truck, along with my new queen size headboard and footboard, leaving his vehicle available to transport my mattress. As I watch Colton load the stuff into the bed of my truck, I try not to stare at the way his muscles move under his tanned skin, which glistens with a subtle sheen of sweat.
“I can text you my address if you’re unsure about how to find the cabin,” he says, pulling his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans.
I don’t know if he’s just trying to be a friendly neighbor or this is a ploy to get my phone number, but something feels a little off about this whole situation.
I understand that folks out here tend to be friendlier, but I can’t allow a guy with gorgeous eyes — and an ass you could bounce a quarter off of — break down my defenses so easily. If I’m going to survive life on the run, I have to assume every person I meet is potentially going to harm me.
Oh, Lord. That’s probably the saddest thought I’ve ever had. How long am I supposed to maintain this level of hyper-vigilance before I can relax into my new country lifestyle?
It’s been seven and a half weeks since I left Vegas, and I haven’t run into any trouble so far. Would the criminals I stole the suitcase from actually wait this long to come after me? Or did it take all this time for them to find me?
“I think I can find the driveway next to mine on my own, thanks. Besides, I’d rather you just follow me to my house. Then, you can take your door out of my truck and leave,” I reply, making no attempt to retrieve the phone in my pocket.
“Damn, woman,” he says through his ridiculously seductive laughter. “I’ll try not to let the door hit my ass on the way out.”
I open my driver’s side door. “Sounds like a good idea,” I reply smugly, but the smirk is wiped clean off my face when I feel a solid swat land on my backside. “What was that?” I demand.
“Mosquito,” he replies without an ounce of irony.
I glare at him for a moment, trying to think of a witty reply, before I decide to give him a taste of his own medicine. Stepping toward him, I bite my bottom lip as I flash him a demure smile.
My gaze is locked on his icy eyes as I land a hard knee in his groin. “Squirrel,” I declare, then I spin around and climb into my truck, lowering the window as I pull out of the parking space. “Gotta watch out for those critters. See you at the mattress store, neighbor!”
He waves at me with one hand while his other hand covers his crotch, then he falls onto one knee in the middle of the dirt lot. I’m about to look away when I see his middle finger go up. I throw my head back with laughter as I pull out onto the highway.
* * *
The moment I enter my new home, I find the entire kitchen flooded with at least an inch and a half of water. I sure wish “handsome” Johnny Sills had come by to point out the main water shutoff yesterday.
As Colton and our newly enlisted assistant — Edie’s fourteen-year-old grandson, Aaron — carefully slide my new mattress out of Colton’s truck bed, I race outside with a panicked look on my face.
“Do you know where my water shutoff is?” I ask desperately, realizing a moment too late that, in my state of distress, I forgot to use my Carolina accent.
Colton scrunches up his eyebrows. “Why? You got a leak?”
Either he didn’t notice my slip-up, or he doesn’t care to acknowledge it.
“A leak is putting it mildly. I have a geyser in there.”
“Oh, shit,” he remarks, then his eyes widen as he looks at Aaron. “Pardon my language.”
Aaron shrugs. “I don’t mind.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’ll put a dollar in the swear jar,” I prod Colton. “The water shutoff, please?”
“Oh, right,” he replies, nodding at Aaron. “Let’s put this back in the truck.”
They quickly slide the mattress into the truck bed again, and Colton immediately heads toward the side of the house, his eyes scanning the ground all around us.
“What are you looking for?” I ask, hoping to glean some useful information from this catastrophe.
“Sometimes, the water shutoff is located inside a concrete bank in the ground,” he explains. “I’ll check around the sides and back of the house first, but I don’t want to miss it if it’s somewhere in the ground.”
“Why would there be a leak if I wasn’t even living here yet?” I ask, as if he’d know what the hell is going on in this eighty-year-old house.
“It’s probably just a worn out gasket or an old galvanized pipe that’s rusted,” he says, kneeling next to a red shutoff valve jutting out of the dirt a few feet from the crawl space vent. “Or, if your home inspector fiddled with the water pressure when they were testing it, they might have set it too high. Could be any number of things,” he says, tightening the valve and standing up straight. “Either way, we’ll get it fixed, but you’ll probably need to call a mitigation company to come out and dry the place out. Then, you’ll want to keep an eye on the wood floors — if you have those — and the subfloor for a few days, for signs of water damage. Your home insurance company will help with all of that.”
“We’ll get it fixed? Are you a plumber?” I ask, my voice a bit too high as all this new information is giving me anxiety.
He chuckles. “Nope, but I used to work construction aft—before my time in the military.”
He began to say “after” then quickly corrected himself and said “before.”
Normally, I wouldn’t notice this kind of thing. But this is the same kind of mistake I keep making since I went on the run. Maybe this guy is on the run, too.
I should steer clear of him, but my ovaries seem to have already sized him up and deemed him father material.
Aren’t I supposed to blend in? Being friendly with my neighbors is part of that, isn’t it?
He chuckles again. “That sure was a long pause. We should probably go check on the kitchen.”
“Oh, fuck!” I blurt out, quickly clapping my hand over my mouth as I glance back to see if Aaron heard my outburst. I let out a sigh of relief when I see he’s still waiting in the truck bed, engrossed in his iPhone screen. I lead the way back toward the front of the house. “Actually, I don’t think I mentioned where the leak was. How do you know it’s in the kitchen?”
Colton appears flummoxed by my question. “You didn’t mention it? Hmm… I guess I just assumed. That’s where most leaks happen.”
“Aaron!” I call out. “You can head home to your grandma’s for now. I have some cleaning up to do. I’ll drop by if
I need you later. Thanks for your help!”
“No prob, Jo. You need some help cleaning up that water?” he says as he hops out of the truck bed onto my gravel driveway.
I nearly smack my forehead. “Duh. I guess I could use some dry towels.”
“Don’t bother, Aaron,” Colton calls out. “I’m closer than you are. I’ll go grab some towels from my cabin.” He turns to me and glances at the pocket where I keep my phone. “You should call your insurance company before they close for the day. I’ll be back in a couple minutes.”
I cock an eyebrow at Colton as he jogs toward my backyard, which backs up to Rhodhiss Lake just like his cabin does. My lake neighbor sure looks sexy when he runs.
I want to question his altruism, but thinking about how generous Edie was with me today, I can’t help but wonder if it’s just the people in this area.
Or maybe I have a big “SAVE ME” sign taped to my ass.
I suddenly recall Colton smacking my butt earlier. Twisting my body to get a better look at the back of my shorts, I find nothing there, of course.
I shake my head as I climb the porch steps to go inside and wait for my new neighbor, whom I’ve already kicked in the nuts and basically accused of sabotaging my plumbing when all he’s done is try to help me.
I should probably tape a sign to my forehead with a single word in huge block letters: PARANOID.
6 King
Present Day
Special Agent Jake Stanley wants me to tell him how I know Izzy. He’s trying to figure out whether Izzy knew me as King or Colton.
He’s probably already spoken with Edie. And from the vague questions I posed to Izzy, I got the impression she spoke to Edie about me on at least one occasion. But does Edie remember the name I gave when I purchased the old door from her shop? Did Izzy refer to me by name when they spoke, or did she refer to me as her helpful neighbor?
