Hellion

by Shannon McKenna

  It took everything he had to hold himself back.

  He got to work early, but it was hard as hell to concentrate today. He took the earliest possible lunch break and headed to the Bakery Café like a guided missile.

  He craved the sight of her. Like oxygen.

  Raelene gave him the stink-eye the second he walked in, but who the fuck cared, while Demi’s beautiful smile was floating him right up off his feet. His heart swelled until he felt like there wasn’t room inside his ribs for it to fit.

  “Demi! I need you in the back right away!” Raelene brayed.

  Demi beckoned him to the counter and passed him a folded up pink Post-It note. “I figured she’d say that as soon as you showed up,” she whispered. “Sorry. Gotta go.”

  The faintest brush of her fingers against his aroused him. He watched her hurry into the back, throwing one last smile over her shoulder, and unfolded it, ignoring the other girls behind the counter asking for his order.

  My parents are gone for the weekend. The house is mine. Meet me there as soon as you get off work. Text me when you’re parking your car.

  Excitement blasted through him. Whoa. Risky. Sneaking into the inner sanctum. Climbing into the princess’s tower. He was so ready for that scenario, his dick ached.

  He wandered out of the bakery café without ordering. He’d forgotten all about food. He just walked down the sidewalk, picturing her bed. Canopy, four-poster, wood, brass, who knew? Wide enough for two? Long enough for him? Pillows, ribbons, lace?

  Didn’t really matter. He didn’t even need a bed. He only had a couple of hours until his shift at the care home anyhow, and a couple hours more in the morning after the shift ended. He sure as hell wasn’t going to waste any of that precious time sleeping.

  A glitter caught his eye, as the midday sunlight hit the display window of Steigler’s Fine Jewelry. He came closer, studying the rings.

  It was so soon for a ring. She was spooked already by the intensity of his conviction. But he could prepare, and then bide his time, perfectly positioned to blow her mind whenever the time was right.

  Moments later, he was in the jewelry store. Trudi Steigler, a large, square woman in her fifties, was showing him engagement rings and watching like a hawk to be sure he didn’t make off with them.

  “I want something blue,” he told her. “Maybe in white gold.”

  “I have some boulder opal rings set in white gold with diamonds. Some of them are blue. But they’re in the Rhys Bryon Sea Change collection,” Trudi told him. “Very high end.”

  “Can I see them?”

  She pulled out a large case from a drawer behind herself, and opened it.

  He saw Demi’s ring instantly. Nestled in black velvet on the far side. It was one of the smaller ones, set in white gold. An irregularly shaped opal ringed with tiny diamonds.

  The stone was exactly the color he was looking for. When he turned it, light flashed through it, turning the blue to a startling backlit blue-green.

  Just like rippling glacial melt water sparkling in the sun. The ultimate peak moment, immortalized in a gem. It was fucking perfect.

  “How much for that one?” he asked, pointing.

  Trudi peered at it, consulted a chart and named a sum that made his body contract.

  For a second, he thought of going with a cheaper option, but those thoughts quickly spun themselves out. No, he didn’t have the cash. Not yet. But that was the ring. No other ring would do. No question about it.

  “I’m a few hundred dollars short,” he told her. “Can I put it on layaway? Just for another few weeks. Another paycheck and I should be able to cover it.”

  Trudi looked disapproving, but her expression warmed when he pulled out the wad of cash from his pocket and began counting the hundreds out onto the counter.

  “I suppose I can,” she said, grudgingly. “Just fill this out.”

  She passed him a form, and he entered all the info she needed, and then walked out, almost completely broke.

  He had only twenty-three bucks left in his pocket.

  Sacrifice.

  About an hour before it was time to leave work, Sy, his boss, came out of the trailer behind the building and called him. “Eric. Come on back here. Gotta talk to you.”

  He followed Sy into the trailer. Sy sat down at the desk, not meeting his eyes. “Sit down,” he said heavily.

  Eric’s belly dropped. He knew trouble when he smelled it. He didn’t bother sitting down. “What is it?”

  Sy frowned down at his battered, thick-fingered hands and let out a sigh. “Eric. I’m, uh, gonna have to let you go.”

  What was left of his euphoria drained away as if a plug had been pulled inside him.

  Consequences. Otis had warned him. Sacrifice. Jeremiah had warned him, too.

  “Why?” Eric asked, just to make Sy squirm. He knew without being told.

  “Well, uh…turns out I’m overstaffed.” Sy looked everywhere except for at Eric. “And you know how it is. Last hired, first fired, so it’s you who has to—”

  “You hired Trevor and Kyle three weeks after me. And you put out a call for more workers just last week.”

  “Ah, yeah, well. In this business, you make hard choices, and I have to prioritize the people with the specific skills and experience that I need for—”

  “I work better than anyone else on your crew,” Eric said. “You said it yourself. Ricky, too, after I re-installed those door frames after Lorens fucked them up.”

  “Damn it, Eric,” Sy blustered. “You’ve got a pretty fucking high opinion of yourself, you know that? I do not have to explain myself to you!”

  “I have more skills than people here with twenty years of experience,” Eric said. “You said the same thing to Anton when he worked for you. We were trained in woodworking, carpentry, mechanics, engineering. We’ve worked building crews since we were kids. You can’t tell me it’s my skills. Or my work ethic. I’m here early every day.”

  Sy slammed his hand down on the desk. “Maybe you should have worked harder on not pissing off the wrong people in this town! You think I like this situation?”

  Eric blew out a slow breath. “You’re getting squeezed? By Ben Vaughan?”

  “Fuck Vaughan. I’m talking Henry Shaw, the grandfather. Got a call from his lawyer. I’m real sorry. It’s true that you’re a good worker, but you gotta go. Look for work outside of this town. You’d have better luck.” He paused, and added, “Come to think of it, you should look for love outside of this town, too. If you want my opinion.”

  “I don’t,” Eric said stonily.

  “Figured as much,” Sy muttered. “For real, I’m sorry about this. But I can’t afford to lose the convention center and Shaw is all over that project. What he says goes. Sorry, buddy. Also. If anyone asks, I never told you this. Anyone asks, and I deny everything and say I caught you using drugs on the job. So don’t.”

  “Won’t be necessary,” Eric said.

  “Just go,” Sy said. “Don’t come back for your last paycheck. I’ll just send it to you at Otis’s.”

  Eric walked out into the blazing heat. The smell of raw-cut wood and pine needles and fresh cement tickled his nose. Summer insects hummed loud in his ears.

  He just stood there, contemplating his new situation.

  Of all his jobs, this one had paid the most. Six steps back on the playing board.

  On the plus side, he almost owned a white gold, opal and diamond ring from Rhys Byron’s Sea Change Collection.

  The whole thing would be almost funny, if it didn’t suck so hard.

  His phone rang. He pulled it out, hoping it was Demi, but no such luck. It was the care home. His guts thudded down another couple notches as he answered. “Yes?”

  “Hi! This is Sandy Gottlieb, from Personnel at the Fair Oaks Care Home?” It was a bright, chirpy female voice. “Is this Eric Trask?”

  “Yes, this is he,” he said. “How can I help you?”

  “Mr. Trask, I’m calling to inf
orm you that we no longer have any shifts available for you to work going forward. So you don’t need to come in tonight. Or in the future.”

  Sandy sounded so cheerful about it, it sounded almost as if she thought she was doing him a favor. “I see,” he replied. “Can you tell me why?”

  “Well, um, no. You’d have to speak to your direct supervisor about that. I was just informed of the decision, and I’m passing the information on to you. If you want to contest their decision, you’ll have to call next week, from Monday through Friday during regular business hours, and we’ll set up an appointment for you. Okay?”

  “I understand,” he said.

  Sandy rattled on after an awkward pause. “Well, then! Have a great weekend, Mr. Trask! Buh-bye!”

  He stood there for a moment, his mind blank, then put the phone in his pocket. When he pulled out his hand, two pieces of paper fluttered out onto the ground.

  The receipt for the ring. The folded pink Post-It with Demi’s invitation.

  He picked them both up. Blankness was giving way to a slow burn of anger.

  At this point, there was hardly even any point in calling the gas station to see if the same situation held true there. Of course it did.

  He didn’t want to tell Demi. Their connection was so new and tender, and he’d already stressed it by asking too much too soon. Something as heavy as this could crush it.

  She didn’t need to know. He’d just live the fantasy tonight. He didn’t even have to cut short his time with her. He could settle in. Take the whole night. Do the thing properly.

  Until she forgot she was the princess of Shaw’s Crossing. By morning, she’d know that they were made to be together. Her parents and granddad could go fuck themselves.

  Reality could wait. Her family’s meddling, him leaving town, Otis’s inevitable I-told-you-so, Mace’s jibes, Anton’s X-ray stares. All of it.

  Kick it down the road until tomorrow.

  When it came to kicking things down the road, alcohol helped. There was a liquor store down the block. He made for it, and settled on tequila. He liked the crazy edge of a tequila buzz. After he paid up, he still had a few bucks for limes at the grocery store.

  Time to clean up. He got into the Monster, and headed to the Kettle River. Scrubbed himself up. Some deodorant, a fresh tee-shirt and jeans from the bag in the back seat, sandals to replace his heavy work boots, and he was good to go.

  He pulled out the string of condoms from the box and stuffed them in his pocket, then rubbed some aftershave lotion he’d stowed in the car onto himself.

  The thought of the night ahead made him burn. But he had to keep all this anger and humiliation out of his head when he was with her.

  It occurred to him that tonight’s plan just happened to be the perfect fuck-you, from his enemies’ point of view. What better revenge than to steal into their ancestral home and nail their beautiful golden girl senseless right in her own frilly bedroom? He was scoring a point. Counting coup. He almost wished it could be that simple. That ugly.

  But not him. He had to go and fall madly in love with her.

  He parked around the corner, under a shaggy stand of pines, and texted.

  Here now. Got off work early. Don’t have to go to the care home tonight.

  She took two seconds to respond.

  Awesome. Go around the lawn in the trees to the back of the pool house to avoid security cams. I’ll meet you back there.

  He laughed to himself as he headed into the trees. True to form. Sneaking in through the back door. Like always, he was a guilty pleasure.

  Fuck it. Who cared.

  He’d focus on the pleasure.

  11

  Demi put on another slick of lip gloss and checked herself in the mirror one last time before hurrying through the house. She made her way out the kitchen door, through the big four-car garage, and from there to the storage sheds and the pool house.

  Once out, she made her way carefully around the garbage cans, having studied the camera angles of her dad’s security cameras’ motion detectors in minute detail back in high school. She’d choreographed the best route to sneak in or out of the house without being seen or sensed, and it hadn’t failed her yet.

  Once out of range in the pine trees, she stood there in the dappled grove and stared around herself, waiting for Eric. The sun slanted through the pine and cedar boughs, hot and sultry. The air seemed tinted golden, perfumed with spicy pine, heavy, tangy sweet and nose tickling. She was surrounded by the deep, chittering hum of summer insects.

  Where the hell was he?

  She looked around and around. She should see him from here from any direction by now. Maybe if she went down to the bottom of the hill—

  “Hey.” Eric’s quiet voice was right behind her.

  She spun around with a gasp, almost jumping out of her skin. He’d appeared out of nowhere. “Holy shit!” she gasped out. “You sneaked up on me!”

  “Old training,” he said. “Hard to break.”

  “You just appeared out of thin air. How did you do that?”

  “I was taught how not to be seen since I was small,” he said. “I thought you didn’t want anyone to see me, right? The street, the neighbors, the cameras?”

  She glanced over at the neighbor’s house, barely visible in the distance. “I did not enjoy it when Raelene called my mom to tell her that I was with you,” she said. “Nor do I want to have that conversation with my dad when he comes back. I’ve been craving some actual privacy. If I have to sneak around for it, so be it.”

  “I’ve had lots of practice with sneaking around,” he told her. “I’m an old pro.”

  Demi paused, taken aback by his tone. He was as gorgeous as ever, but he seemed different today. His eyes looked distant. Remote. And he wasn’t smiling.

  She didn’t want distance. Demi reached for his hand, and saw the bottle he was holding by the neck. He held it up for her inspection. A bottle of tequila, and a plastic bag with some limes swung from his fingers. “Hostess gift,” he told her.

  “Aw, you shouldn’t have. Follow me. And I mean, literally, right behind me. I know where the cameras are, the directions they point, and the places that they miss.”

  “Got it. Lead the way, princess. Your dirty secret is safe with me.”

  Demi stopped and looked back. “What?” she said slowly. “What did you say?”

  “You heard me,” he replied.

  “There is nothing dirty about this,” she told him. “I’m not ashamed of what I’m doing. I have nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “Yeah? And all the complicated choreography?”

  “My father remotely monitors the home security system with his tablet,” she said. “He’s obsessed about it. He gets a ping on his phone when the motion detectors are activated. He’ll hear it, and he’ll look.”

  “Ouch,” he muttered. “That’s dystopian as all fuck.”

  “Tell me about it,” she said. “If he sees you here, they will turn around and drive back. Do you want to invite my parents to our encounter?”

  They gazed at each other for a tense moment.

  “Maybe we should call this off,” she said. “If you’re uncomfortable with being here, I totally understand. It is kind of weird. The sneaking, I mean. We can skip it.”

  He looked her up and down, and the hungry gleam in his eyes made her glad she’d taken off the bra, and chosen that skimpy, backless, draped gauze sundress. Her nipples hardened under his gaze, pressing against the thin fabric.

  “No way,” he said. “I’d sneak anywhere on earth for a taste of that.”

  Her knees went weak with relief. The rest of her tingled with anticipation. “Well okay, then. But it’s not a dirty secret. By no means. It’s just nobody else’s goddamn business, for once in my goddamn life. Are we clear on that?”

  “Crystal clear,” he said.

  “If I’d had more warning, I would have tried to find a way to get us out to the cabin on the lake,” she said. “Spruce Tip Is
land. That would have been perfect. There’s no security out there. But we need a boat for that, and it’s too complicated.”

  “Anywhere’s fine,” he said. “All I need is you.”

  The low growl of lust in his voice made her shiver, but she tried to play it cool. “So, you said in your text that you don’t have to go to work tonight.”

  “That’s right.”

  “That’s awesome,” she said. “We have until seven-thirty. That’s when Granddad is dropping by to have coffee with me. And check up on me, of course.”

  “I’ll be long gone by then,” he assured her. “No worries.”

  She kept on standing there, trying to read his face. She couldn’t put her finger on it. Something was different about him. Something had changed.

  “What is it, Eric? What’s going on?”

  He frowned. “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “I’m getting a strange vibe from you,” she said. “I wish you’d tell me what’s up.”

  He shook his head, but the silence kept getting heavier, charged with discomfort.

  This was not okay. Demi clenched her jaw and just waited him out.

  Finally, Eric shrugged. Angrily, as if he were shaking something off his back.

  “Sorry,” he said gruffly. “Some weird shit happened at work. It got me all uptight. I didn’t mean to bring it here, but I guess I must have. It has nothing to do with you.”

  “I see. Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No.” His tone left no room for debate.

  Now didn’t seem like the moment to press him. It was so new with them. Still just wild, sexy fantasy. Reality hadn’t collided with it yet. She understood his desire to keep reality at arm’s length, but that never worked. Not for long, anyway.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Let’s get someplace private. I’ll apologize so hard, I’ll make your head spin.”

  “No need to apologize. Step only where I step, okay?”

  She checked behind her to make sure he was following the torturous route that kept them out of camera and motion detector range. Then pushed open the door of the pool house open and turned on the light.