by West, Dahlia
Hayley eyed him skeptically. “Well, okay,” she told him, teasingly. “But if you’re lying and I have to go all Crouching Tiger on some poor misguided woman, I’m gonna come to your garage and go all Hidden Dragon on you.”
Chris laughed uproariously. “Slick, soaking wet you still wouldn’t outweigh my boots.”
She grinned. “Maybe that doesn’t matter,” she told him. “Maybe I have mad kung fu skills that you don’t know about.”
He grinned back at her. “No, you don’t.”
She sighed. “No,” she agreed. “I don’t. But I will come to your garage. And cry. Like a lot.”
He scowled. “Now that would be scary. I hate to see women cry.”
“Thanks again,” she told him.
“No problem, Hayley.”
Chris waited until she got inside her little blue house and locked the door. Hayley leaned against it and closed her eyes. She needed a bath. And to not think about the blond. Or being Chris Sullivan’s house mouse, fake or otherwise. She suspected only one of those was a sure thing.
Chapter 7
Chris sat bolt upright in bed, woken by the shrill screaming, which didn't stop. He yanked open the nightstand drawer, grabbed his .44 caliber Desert Eagle and launched himself out of bed. In three strides he was down the hall, in another two he'd thrown open his own front door. He bounded down the steps of the front porch, crossed the lawn and took Hayley's steps two at a time. Not having stopped for keys, he planted his bare foot right next to the doorknob. The wood of the frame splintered and the door exploded inward.
He scanned the living area and finding it secure, rounded the corner and entered the darkened hallway, gun up, sweeping the dark corners. The screaming had subsided but he could hear her crying through the door. He twisted the knob of Hayley's bedroom door. When it didn't give, he slammed his shoulder into it. The door only moved a scant inch.
"What the fuck?" he muttered and slammed into the door again. "Hayley! Hayley open this door!" he shouted.
The crying stopped and he hit the door a third time as hard as he could. He heard a crash on the other side and checked again but still couldn't get the god damn thing to open.
"Hayley, talk to me," he demanded. "What the fuck is going on? Are you alright? What's blocking the door?"
He heard a choking sob and then she answered, "Chris?"
"Yeah, honey. It's me. Are you alone? Are you alright? Get this god damn door open!"
"I- it's alright," she called, her voice cracking under the strain. "Everything's fine. It's okay."
"The hell it is. Get this door open," he ordered.
"I'm fine, really," she said, her voice regaining some of its composure. "Just...you can go. I'm okay. It was just a bad dream."
"Jesus Christ," he muttered to himself. "Open the door," he said more loudly.
"No, really, I-"
"Hayley. I want eyes on you. Right now. Open this door or I'll get an axe and chop it the fuck down."
A moment passed and then he heard her struggling with something on the other side of the door. His whole body tensed with the need to see her. Whatever it was, it was taking far too long. "Hayley," he growled.
"I'm getting it. Just hang on," she called out.
Finally he heard the flimsy doorknob lock flip and the door creaked open a few inches. Hayley blocked it with her body. "I'm fine," she informed him.
Ignoring her attempts to shut him out, he shouldered the door open and stalked past her. Directly across from the doorway was the side wall that encompassed the clothes closet. It had a giant hole in the dry wall. His eyes scanned the room and found the highboy dresser sitting at an odd angle between the bed and the closet door.
"That," he said, pointing at the highboy, "was what was blocking the door?"
She chewed her lip and nodded. Obviously when Chris threw his weight into the door, it had merely succeeded in toppling the highboy into the closet wall, still rendering entry impossible.
Chris scrutinized Hayley from head to toe. She was wearing sleep shorts and t-shirt, both in good order, no rips or tears. Her legs, arms, and face looked okay other than her eyes were a little puffy from crying.
He strode past her and flung open the closet doors, peering inside, when he turned, Hayley caught sight of the .44, pointed at the floor, and stumbled back, eyes wide in terror.
"I thought you were in trouble," he said by way of explanation.
His eyes moved over the room, assessing it. Nothing else seemed out of place. Everything looked normal. His gaze settled on four indentations on the brand new carpet in front of the door. "Hayley, if-" he said, taking a step toward her. She instantly moved away from him.
He sighed and placed the .44 on top of the highboy behind him, then turned back to her. "You're okay?" he asked, and she nodded slightly. "Jesus, Hayley, you scared the hell out of me."
"I'm sorry," she told him. She started to cry and he felt like an ass because he knew he sounded harsher than he meant to.
"No, I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean to yell. You want to tell me who Jake is?" he asked gently. She'd been screaming his name over and over, also "Stop" and "Please, don't do this."
He felt her head shake against him. "No one. It was just a dream," she lied.
He sighed. "This happen a lot?"
"Not really. Sometimes. Not for a long time, though," she admitted. "I'm sorry. “Tonight scared me.”
"Hayley, this isn’t just about tonight. You move that dresser every night," he observed. Hayley continued to chew her lip and nodded. "Why?" he asked, then chalked up his stupidity to being woken up in the middle of the night. "You're that afraid?" Hayley didn't move or respond.
Chris let her go and picked up his gun off the dresser. He stalked out to the living room and frowned at the broken door. Hayley had cautiously followed him and was now staring at it with growing panic.
"Didn't have time to get keys," he grumbled. "Thought you were...in trouble. I'm gonna stay the rest of the night, Hayley." His heart squeezed as he saw the panic threaten to overtake her at that point. "I'm taking the couch. I'll have the guys here in the morning to fix your door." He tucked the .44 into the waistband of his shorts at the small of his back. "I'm just gonna run to my house and lock the door. I left it open. I'll be right back, honey. Okay?"
She nodded and he jogged down the porch steps intent on returning as quickly as possible. After securing his own place, he swung her front door shut and carried a dining room chair over to it to keep any wind from blowing it open.
He set the gun down on the coffee table and sat down on the couch. Hayley was still standing at the entrance to the hallway, gazing around the room, slightly dazed.
"Hayley," he called out to her. She swung her gaze to him. "You should go back to bed. Try to rest if you can."
****************************
Hayley stood helplessly in the bedroom, unsure what to do. A large man with a gun was in her living room. On the other hand, she was terrified to think what might happen if he wasn’t there tonight, since the door was broken. She looked around the room, slightly bewildered and then settled her gaze on the bed.
She slowly crept out of the bedroom, practically tiptoeing down the hall to the living room. Chris was sitting on the couch and looked up at her as she approached. “Here,” she said awkwardly, handing him a pillow and the blanket from the foot of her bed.
“Thanks, Slick,” he said, taking them from her.
“Do you- do you think anyone called the police?”
Chris considered it. “Probably not. Your bedroom window is right across from mine. That’s how I heard you. It wasn’t all that loud outside. I think if they haven’t come now, they probably won’t.”
“I’m sorry,” she repeated.
“It’s not your fault,” he assured her. “Slick, you know, the deadbolt on that door isn’t a cheap piece of shit. The wood on the frame’s a little old so it won’t stop anyone from booting it in, but it can’t be picked by your average burglar. And most
of them aren’t gonna breach a door the way I did. You are safe here. Unless there’s somebody out there who might kick in your door.”
Hayley could feel him watching her even as she kept her eyes on the front door. “Probably not,” she told him. “But I’m still alone, and it can be…scary….sometimes.” She turned her head to catch his nod.
“I’ll have the guys here in the morning,” he assured her. “Go get some rest.”
Hayley went back to her room, and even though she knew it was a terrible thing to do, even though she knew exactly what it said about her, even though she knew there was no rational reason to do so, she pushed the dresser back against the door.
******************************
Chris woke up early and fired off a text to all the boys. Hawk and Tex were re-routed from the garage to the home improvement store with a list of supplies. Chris hadn’t wasted much time with details and they hadn’t asked for them at the time. They each simply sent a reply of acknowledgment of the orders and an ETA.
Hayley had woken up shortly after him. Or, from the dark rings under her eyes, had emerged from her room in the morning, not having slept at all. She made them both coffee and set about doing something with a mixing bowl.
When he’d gone to lock up his own place last night, he’d thrown on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, and didn’t bother with going to change in the morning since Hawk and Tex were on their way already. Instead he took Hayley’s cup of coffee and stood on her front porch, waiting for the troops. When they pulled up, it was not lost on them that he was next door to his own place and wearing the equivalent of skivvies.
“I don’t suppose,” Tex said, “that you and Slick had some kind of tequila-induced circus sex and tore up her house?”
Chris shook his head. “Not even close.”
“You owe me ten bucks,” Tex told Hawk.
Hawk rolled his eyes. “Don’t remember making that bet.”
“It was implied,” Tex insisted to Hawk. To Chris he said, “So what’s the damage here?” Tex asked. “And why?”
Chris glanced behind himself to make sure the door was as closed as it could be. “Okay, look,” he said in a low voice that caused Hawk and Tex to step closer to hear him. “She had a nightmare last night.”
“Okay,” Tex said cautiously.
“It was bad. She was screaming like a banshee and it woke me up. I came over not knowing what was what and kicked down her door to get to her.”
“Damn,” said Hawk. “Must’ve been really bad.”
Chris nodded. “It was. She was a little shaken up then, and she’s probably not feeling great about it now. So we’re not gonna bring it up to her or make her feel worse about it.”
“Copy that,” Tex said. “Let’s get the garage door open and unload the truck.”
The men set about building a work station in the garage, using Chris’s tools. Hawk cut a new frame piece and Tex routed it out. Chris took a drill and added a chain lock that the boys had picked up to the door on the inside. It wasn’t much in the way of security. The door already had a peephole and if the deadbolt didn’t hold or wasn’t engaged in the first place, a boot to the door would pop that chain easier than Chris had managed it last night. But damn if he didn’t know any other way to make her feel better.
Tex and Hawk hammered in the new frame piece and tested the slide of the bolt to be sure. Then Hawk asked what they needed the spackle for. Chris directed the men to Slick’s bedroom. Hawk tilted his head and frowned at the hole in the dry wall. “Which one of you managed this?” he asked.
“I did,” Chris admitted. He gestured to the highboy. “She put the dresser in front of the door and when I couldn’t get it open, I accidentally toppled it. Didn’t know it was there.”
Tex surveyed the wall and door. “Fairly ingenious,” he deduced. “Couldn’t possibly get in here unless she moved it. Not unless you come in through the window.”
“All this for a biker spat in a parking lot?” Hawk asked. “We should find them and break their legs.”
Chris shook his head. “Don’t think this is for the prospect or Prior. I mean, granted, it’d keep them out. But I’m pretty sure this set up is directly related to the other asshole.”
“We should find him, too,” Hawk grumbled and pulled the top off the drywall compound.
“With you there,” Tex agreed.
When they were finished, they hauled the tools back out into the living room.
“Alright what do I smell?” Hawk finally asked.
Hayley gave him a wan smile. “I made pancakes. I don’t normally get to make them for myself. Because it’s not that easy to make batter for just three pancakes.”
Hawk grunted. “You can only eat three? Amateur. Load me up, woman.”
“Buttermilk?” asked Tex.
“Of course,” Slick replied. “With bananas and blueberries.”
Tex clapped his hands together and rubbed them. “So worth getting up early,” he declared and watched greedily as Hayley piled a stack of cakes onto a plate and handed it to Hawk.
Chris waited his turn, lounging against the counter, and then took a third plate from Hayley. “Thanks, Slick,” he told her, grinning. “Get yourself some and come eat with us,” he told her. Hayley took the fourth chair between Tex and Chris and gingerly cut into her stack.
Hawk paused in his gluttony only to say, “Can you break some more shit next week so we can do this again?”
Hayley blushed, but grinned down at her plate.
Chapter 8
Hayley wasn't exactly asleep due to her chronic insomnia, but neither was she willing to get out of bed at the ass crack of dawn, however this choice was taken away from her by the ungodly sound of a motor running precariously close to her bedroom window. She sat up, stretched, and looked out, seeing nothing. She hit the floor in her sleep shorts and tank top and wandered dazedly into the kitchen and looked out that window to see Chris mowing the lawn. Scratch that. Mowing her lawn.
He seemed engrossed in the activity, pushing and pulling the mower in a clearly defined pattern that reminded her of a tiny football field.
And not that she would normally notice this kind of thing, but...wow. He'd only ever worn jeans in front of her and seeing his calves alone was a holy experience. The shirt fit about as tight as all his other shirts, not that she looked. Much. But the sum total of Chris Sullivan in shorts and a t-shirt participating in an activity that made him sweat, no glisten, was enough to nearly render her comatose. She really had to stop getting those romance novels at the grocery store. And then, as if sensing the wayward thoughts that she was in denial about having, he looked up.
Damn. Busted. She smiled a huge goofy smile and waved. He waved back and she ducked back out of the window as quickly as she thought was appropriate without seeming ridiculous. He'd caught her looking at him. But then again, it was 6:30 in the morning and he was mowing the freaking lawn. Maybe he hadn't had a neighbor in so long he'd forgotten that normal, non Greek God, military-type people slept late and had coffee before doing anything that required that much energy.
She peeked and he'd gone back to mowing her lawn. Which now made her feel guilty. She could mow the lawn. If she had a mower. Which she did not. And she really didn't want to buy one. Her last apartment had been situated over a Chinese noodle shop in downtown Denver and had no lawn and the added bonus of smelling like soup all the time.
Even at 6:30 in the morning, mowing was hot, hard work. That much was obvious and she felt guilty.
***************************
Chris had one more pass to go when out of the corner of his eye he saw Hayley come out the back door and down the steps of the small deck. She had on flip flops, jean shorts, a t shirt, and had a glass in her hand. On closer inspection it looked like iced tea. Intrigued, and parched, he killed the motor as Hayley got closer.
"I can do this," she told him.
He grinned at her. "I'm almost done, Slick," he said sarcastically.
She rolled her eyes at him. "I meant next time."
"Uh uh," he said, shaking his head. "See, Slick. This here's what they call Man's work."
"Oh, really?" she asked in a challenging tone.
"That's a fact."
"And the legion of women, for there are many, who mow their own lawns every day?"
"Don't have a man to do it for them," he informed her. "Women's work… is making tea," he added, swiping the glass from her.
"How do you know that's for you?" she asked.
"Don’t care, didn't ask," he replied, grinning and took a swig. And nearly choked. "Holy hell, Slick. What is this?"
