Hell Yeah!_Audacious

by Beth Williamson

  She refused to feel helpless. The man could have easily called the cops, but he didn’t. And he’d left her a ten-dollar tip on a ten-dollar lunch. She didn’t trust men, and she sure as hell wasn’t about to let her son into that man’s house alone. Too many weirdos out there. Ace wasn’t even five feet tall yet. There was no way he could hold his own against the stranger. Not that Ronnie was big and bad, but she carried her gun everywhere.

  A small hand touched her arm. “I’m sorry, Mama.”

  Ronnie turned to find Ace at her elbow. He had her hair, but his eyes were the deep brown of his father, a man who disappeared from Ronnie’s life before she gave birth to the baby they’d made. She’d not regretted cutting all ties with him.

  To his credit, he’d given her the most precious gift she had. Ace. He was smart, funny and had his mother’s smart mouth. She would do anything for her kid, and that included cleaning some guy’s house after a full shift at work.

  “I know you are, sugar.” She hugged him, and he allowed her to hang on for an extra few seconds. Trouble followed him, sometimes of his own doing, sometimes just fate. “We’ll have to work off the damage to the man’s car together.”

  “I’ll do twice the work so you don’t have to.”

  She kissed his forehead. “It’ll go faster if both of us work.”

  He screwed up his mouth and grunted. “Who is he anyway?”

  “I dunno. A man with a really expensive car.” She got to her feet and glanced down at her food-splattered pants. “I hope he doesn’t mind eggs and bacon stank.”

  Ace giggled. “I got that beat. I landed on a dead squirrel in the park earlier.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Oh, you’re gross.”

  Laughing, they left the restaurant and drove over to Elm Street in her piece of crap Honda. It was thirty years old and the color of baby shit, but it ran. Most days anyway. Today was one of those days.

  She pulled in to see the cherry red car in the back by the old carriage house. She’d forgotten about this old place. It was built sometime around nineteen hundred for the local banker. He’d had a ridiculous amount of children, and the big rambling house had housed many families since. It had at least ten acres with a carriage house in the back that had been converted to a barn a long time ago.

  The two-story structure had a Victorian edge with a big front porch and a high, peaked roof. A huge stained-glass window dominated the second floor above the porch. It depicted a knight with a lady giving him a white piece of cloth for his lance. Old-fashioned and kind of sweet, even it if was caked with years of dirt and grime.

  The columns on the front porch listed to the right a bit, and the steps were curling up at the ends. Paint peeled from the house and front porch in big curlicues. The bushes around the perimeter of the house were either wildly overgrown or puny. The windows were darkened from dirt and age and she smelled something dead, likely under the house.

  The stranger had bought a rundown house, that was for sure, but it had good bones. It would definitely take hard work to get it back to a livable state. Why would someone with a lot of money buy such an eyesore?

  They walked up the front porch and rang the bell, or at least tried to. A shock ran up her arm and she yelped, jumping a foot in the air. Ace knocked and shrugged as she sucked at her sore fingertip.

  When the man opened the door, it stuck bad enough that he had to yank it twice before it cleared whatever was in its way. Jack Reilly was covered in dirt streaks down his face, hands, and arms, while his hair was matted with sweat on one side and the other side stuck up in crazy spikes. His clothes were no better, liberally filthy with whatever lurked in this house. For some crazy reason, he looked better like this than he had all spiffed up earlier.

  “Nice place. Does the Addams family live here?” She peered into the gloomy interior.

  “I gave Lurch the day off. Come on in.” He stepped aside and gestured for them to step in.

  The smell inside the house wasn’t so bad. Musty with a touch of mothballs but no dead body smells. She almost laughed at how foolish that sounded in her head.

  “Thank you for coming, Veronica and Ace.” He sounded so formal.

  “I go by Ronnie.” She hated to hear her full name. Made her think of her twin sister, Victoria, who had run as far as she could from Texas. She’d been in England for five years with little contact. It hurt to even think about her. Ronnie shook off her own family issues and continued into the house.

  “It’s like a tomb in here.” She walked over to a window and ran her finger down the coating from years of neglect. “First thing I’d do is clean the windows and let some light in. And get rid of these drapes before they kill someone.” The offending hangings were a hideous plaid and had more dust than seemed possible.

  “There’s a bucket of soapy water by the stairs. Why don’t you start on the windows in here, Ace?” He was pleasant enough, but they were there because Ace damaged his fancy car and no other reason.

  “Prepared for us, eh?” She nodded at her son, who reluctantly started on his task. A step stool stood nearby, letting her know the man had even considered their heights. Point in his favor.

  She walked farther into the house, curious. He followed a few feet behind. The interior was shadowed from the dirt covering the windows but she could see the hardwood floor was gorgeous but scuffed from years use. The staircase was to the right and had an ornate banister of some dark wood that curled at the bottom. Once it was cleaned up, it would be gorgeous.

  “Why did you buy this dump?” She wasn’t one for subtlety.

  He didn’t seem offended. In fact, he chuckled, a deep sound that rumbled through the air. “It’s a beautiful property and the house can be brought back to life.” He stepped around her and opened the door to what appeared to be the kitchen in the back of the house. “I’d like a second opinion on the kitchen.”

  Older homes were closed off, no open concept here. The kitchen was narrow and had white cabinets with silver trim. Most of the doors hung a little askew and the grout on the white tile countertops was gray with age. The stove looked older than both of them together. Hell, it might’ve been from the twenties. There was no refrigerator and the sink was a very pitted porcelain with a faucet that hung cockeyed.

  “My opinion? Gut it and start over.” She had done that to herself too many times to count. Sometimes it was the only choice.

  “I can’t do that. These cabinets are hardwood. They can be cleaned up and painted or sanded then stained. New hardware.”

  She pointed at the sink. “Can you save that?”

  “Possibly. It can probably be sanded and resealed. I’ve got to Google it.” He ran his hand along the tiled countertop with the grout that had likely turned gray from decades of food. She resisted the urge to find some bleach and scrub his hand.

  “Why did you ask me my opinion then? Seems like you got this all worked out.” She didn’t feel uncomfortable in the room alone with him, but he did set her off balance. There was something about him.

  “I need advice on colors. I want to make sure I don’t make this too masculine.” He quirked that brow at her again. “You’re feminine.”

  She glanced down at her shapeless clothes. “Not at the moment.”

  “Always.” The man had charm, but she wasn’t that easily suckered.

  “If you’re looking for a date, I ain’t the girl for you. I’ll make sure we work off the money for the repairs to your fancy car, but that’s as far as I go.” She stuck up her chin in the air and crossed her arms.

  “I’m not looking for a date.” He shrugged one shoulder. “But I could use a friend in town.”

  She snorted. “You’ll soon find out that I’m the last person you want to be friends with. Haven’t you heard of Audacious yet?”

  #

  Jack had dated a number of women in his life. Most of who were classically beautiful. This feisty waitress had nothing in common with the females he’d been surrounded by.

  Ve
ronica intrigued him.

  “Who or what is Audacious?”

  “Me. I have a dark and shady reputation and my nickname in town is Audacious. It’s like a giant shadow I’ll never be able to outrun.” She shrugged, but her tone told him the name bothered her.

  “I have a dark and shady past, too, so that makes two of us.”

  He watched as she leaned down to examine the tiled countertop. She wrinkled her nose.

  “I can’t imagine how much bacteria has lived and died on this thing over the last hundred years.” She straightened and pursed her lips. “Were you looking at my ass?”

  He shrugged. “What if I was?”

  “Nothing, just be sure look is all you do.” She shrugged. “I don’t take shit from anyone.”

  At this he smiled. “You don’t say.”

  “Don’t be a smart ass. I’m not a fan.” She walked farther into the house. “This is a massive house for one person.” She whirled around to spear him with a gaze. “Unless you have a hidden family somewhere.”

  The mention of family made his heart pinch. “No, no family. No one but me.”

  “Sometimes I wish I didn’t have my family, such as it is, but if I didn’t, then I wouldn’t have Ace. Because I think we’re a product of where and who we come from, y’know?” Who knew this curvy, outspoken woman was such a philosopher? She continued to surprise him with every sentence that fell out of her mouth.

  A mouth that, he was disconcerted to notice, was blessed with plump lips and a nice set of teeth, although one front tooth was cocked to the side just a bit. It gave her mouth character, not that she needed it. The woman might not be model beautiful, but she ignited a slow burn in his dick, making it twitch with interest.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  He blinked at her question, nonplussed by the images that raced through his mind. “Pardon?”

  She crossed her arms. “I’m supposed to be working off my son’s debt, remember? What do you want me to do?”

  He was brain dead for several seconds before he remembered that he’d planned for her and her son to be there. He’d prepared the soapy water for the windows for the kid. For her, however, he had a different chore.

  “Come upstairs with me.” He turned and walked up the back staircase. It was obviously narrower and meant for the servants that had undoubtedly lived here at some point. The second floor had five bedrooms of varying sizes. The largest, which had blue, flocked wallpaper, he had set up a temporary bedroom to rest his bones in. The one next door was much more feminine with wallpaper that had tiny faded roses.

  Within this room was a beautiful rosewood armoire he wanted to restore. He opened the doors and stood back. She stepped into the room at a slow speed and looked both ways before she appeared to satisfy herself no one was waiting to attack her.

  “This is what I want you to do.” He pointed to the armoire.

  She frowned and the now familiar crease appeared between her eyes. “What’s in there?”

  “See for yourself.”

  When Jack had discovered the treasure trove of clothes, he knew he couldn’t simply throw them away. There were dresses from the nineteen twenties and thirties and, if he wasn’t mistaken, something from the World War I era. They were filthy with dust and yellowed with age.

  She peered into the armoire, and a genuine smile lit her face. It transformed her from the hard woman she showed the world to someone completely different.

  “These are amazing.” She caressed the lace cuffs and the delicate stitches in the bodice of a purple dress. Her fingers were long and elegant and made him think of things other than old dresses. Jack was attracted to her, more than that, turned the hell on by her. “What are you going to do with them?”

  He shook off the arousal fog that squeezed his brain. “I want to air them out and find a new owner for them. Clean them if possible.”

  She sniffed at the clothes. “Musty with a touch of mothballs, just like this whole house. I don’t know a damn thing about cleaning hundred-year-old clothes, though.”

  “What’s the worst that can happen? They will either rot in this armoire, or we find a new home for them.” He hadn’t taken much time in his life to restore things that had been broken, discarded, or left behind. No, his was an existence of everything new and shiny. Hell, he was sure there was clothing he’d either never worn or only worn once that used to sit in his enormous closet. It was an empty existence.

  No more. He was going to find meaning in his life, starting with this old house.

  She pulled out a dress and held it up to her. The bottom of the garment swirled around her legs. Jack stared and visualized her wearing the dress, holding a bouquet of bluebonnets with her hair up in a bun.

  He stumbled backward, his heart thumping like a drum. What the hell was he thinking? He blinked again and the image disappeared. She was looking down at the dress and there damn sure were no bluebonnets.

  “This is such a beautiful dress. The lace work is so detailed.” She glanced up at him and her brows went up. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  He managed not to let out the crazy laugh that threatened. “Low blood sugar. I’ll be right back.”

  Jack ran out of the room like his ass was on fire. He’d envisioned her wearing one of the dresses, as though she were a bride. Foolish thought, and he needed to shake off anything remotely like getting married. He needed to get his own shit straight. No wife would want to get involved with him unless she knew about his family’s money.

  #

  Ronnie stared at the open doorway, wondering what had spooked Jack. He’d been the one to show her the dresses he wanted cleaned up to sell. Then he’d looked startled and his eyes had been glassy.

  She hung the dress back up and dusted off her hands. They would definitely require a lot of TLC. She’d done her fair share of laundry, but these dresses were different. They had the most delicate lace she’d ever seen, not to mention they were probably a hundred years old.

  Ronnie spent the next ten minutes looking at each of the garments. She counted twenty-three of them. Some were yellowed with age and others were mustier than her granny’s attic. She took the first one out, the one that had captured her attention straightaway, and headed back downstairs.

  She heard voices in the front room and followed the sound. Ronnie stopped and stared, flummoxed by the scene in front of her.

  Ace sat on the floor beside Jack. They each had a glass of what appeared to be orange juice. They were looking at Jack’s phone and laughing. Laughing! How had this situation turned completely sideways? Ace had to work off the damage to the car, not become besties with a rich man who owned a crumbling house.

  Her son had never liked men. He stayed away from them and didn’t have many who were a good role model. Certainly nobody in Ronnie’s family. Her father had been dead for years and Ace’s daddy only stayed long enough to deposit his sperm. She had no brothers, and any uncles and grandfathers were either dead, in prison, or wanted nothing to do with Ronnie’s dysfunctional life.

  Now here he was bonding with a rich man who could have him arrested for damaging his property. Not that the man gave any indication he would, but still, it could happen. Ronnie didn’t want to feel annoyed or worse, jealous, but the hot ball in her chest said she felt it anyway.

  “I thought we were working off the damage to your fancy car.” The words snapped off her tongue like bullets in the empty house.

  They looked up at her and Ace’s cheeks pinkened. Jack’s gaze narrowed. Ronnie couldn’t change who she was. Life had kicked her too many times. She always struck first lest someone take advantage or her. She was who she was, and nothing was going to change her now.

  “Sorry, Ma.” Ace jumped to his feet and reached in the bucket for a sponge.

  As her son started soaping up the window to his right, Jack got slowly to his feet. He glanced at the dress on her arm and walked past her into the kitchen. A wave of frost followed behind him. Ronnie’s annoyan
ce grew. He had no reason to be angry with her. The jerk.

  She stomped after him, words crowding in her throat, begging to be thrown. When she walked into the awful kitchen, she opened her mouth to chew him to pieces, but before she could, he lit into her.

  “Why are you so damn mad at me? I was giving the kid some juice after working hard. He’d already done six windows and he’s barely at my shoulder.” His arms were crossed and his face flushed with color.

  Ronnie opened her mouth to answer but he cut her off.

  “I was beginning to like you.”

  She blinked in surprise. “You like me?”

  “No, but I was starting to. Then you came in like a banshee and yelled at your kid for taking a two-minute break.” He shook his head.

  “I, uh, tend to strike first.” She looked down at her feet.

  “I noticed.” He sighed. “I won’t go near Ace if you don’t want me to. My mother wasn’t the type to protect me, and I respect you for looking out for your son.”

  She was used to mamas who would commit murder to protect their young’uns. Except for her own mother, unfortunately.

  “I know how it feels to not feel a mother’s love. I promised Ace when he was born that he would never wonder if I loved him. I tell him every day.” Her voice thickened, which was somewhat embarrassing. She wasn’t weak.

  His gaze locked with hers, and she recognized a kindred spirit. A child whose mother didn’t want or love the way she should have. She never expected to have that connection with this fancy man.

  He stepped closer and her heart kicked into a gallop. His scent surrounded her, a mixture of man and a cologne or soap that made her want to steal his shirt and hide it. Potentially bury her face in it several times a day and breathe deep.

  He reached up and cupped her cheek. Ronnie should kick him in the balls or at least slap his hand away, but she didn’t.

  She couldn’t.

  Jesus, it felt so good to be touched.

  It had been so long since she had been caressed. The only person who regularly touched her was Ace, and that was for hugs and sweet kisses. Jack had large hands, but his skin was smooth and warm. His thumb swept across her lips.