"Okay, thanks. See ya later."
"Swing on by when you get home and I'll make you a burger if you're hungry. And, again, welcome to the neighborhood."
Baylor waved at him and quickly hopped up into the driver's seat of the rental truck.
She closed her eyes briefly after starting it, thinking about how her ex had ruined her for men. He'd sure showed his true colors when he ran back home to live with his mommy and daddy in the Palisades after Baylor informed him that she was tired of his juvenile behavior and verbal abuse. She'd tossed the final comment in his direction that there was no way she would ever have children with someone so immature and irresponsible, and that she was glad that she was infertile. Never again, she promised herself as she pulled onto the street. My life is mine now, and no one is going to tell me what to do or how to live it!
After dropping off the truck keys in the night deposit box, Baylor popped a fresh wad of bubblegum into her mouth, slid into her old Volvo, and glanced at the clock with a deep sigh. It was after nine in the evening, and the miserable warmth of the desert night did nothing to help her stay awake. She suspected that being hypoglycemic added to her lethargy, as well as the lack of sleep from the stress and anxiety that accompanied this move. For a split second, she questioned her wisdom in not returning to her new house, but then quickly dismissed the notion. Her stubbornness forbade her from allowing her sweetly obnoxious neighbor to think he could dictate the path of her decisions.
With a yawn, she pulled out of the parking area and then headed down the main road towards the highway. Seconds later, the blipping of a siren and flashing blue lights jarred her to full wakefulness. Baylor cursed as the motorcycle cop pulled up beside her and gestured for her to pull over.
"License and registration, ma'am," the highway patrolman requested, as he leaned into her window.
"Was I speeding?" Baylor asked, suppressing another yawn.
"No, ma'am. You were all over the road. Have you been drinking?"
"Not at all. I'm sorry. I'm exhausted and a bit under the weather. I'm in the middle of a move." Baylor looked at him with tired eyes.
"Moving is the worst," the officer said kindly. He handed back her paperwork. "How much farther to get where you are going?"
"I'm still a good distance away. I just dropped off the truck and am headed back to LA to pack some more."
"To this address?" He gestured to her license and received a nod. "That's another two plus hours on the road. In your state, it's not a good idea. How about you go back to your new place and stay there for the night? You can start fresh in the morning."
"I can't." Baylor yawned again. "I'm on a deadline. Jerk landlord gave me no time to get out, and I have a ton of packing to do."
"One night is not going to make a difference, especially if you end up in an accident because you passed out during your drive. I will escort you back to your house to make sure you arrive safely."
Baylor groaned. What was it with men in this part of the country? "Thanks, Officer, but I really must get back to work."
"What's your new address?" he asked, taking out a small notebook and jotting down her information.
Baylor sighed and reluctantly recited it. He tucked the notebook back into his pocket and leaned into her window.
"That address is only ten minutes from here. I will follow you home."
Baylor popped a bubble and shook her head. "I really can't. I have—"
"Let me rephrase this," the office said firmly, interrupting her. "I won't issue you a ticket for reckless driving if you go back to your place and promise to stay put until morning."
"That's not fair!"
"You would rather I give you a ticket? Or maybe have the car towed after I cite you for reckless driving and personal endangerment?"
"That's fucking blackmail!"
"Yes or no? Do you want that ticket and to lose your car? Maybe a night in the station to sleep off this grumpiness?"
"No, Sir, Officer," she grumbled, snapping her gum with irritation.
"Good girl. I'm right behind you. Make sure you buckle up."
Baylor simmered angrily as she returned to her new house. She frowned as the officer pulled into the driveway next door, and watched as Hayden and the other man exchanged a few words. The two walked over to her car.
"You lied to me, Baylor. You said you would come back tonight," Hayden admonished.
"Yeah, well I changed my mind. Do you know each other?"
"Yeah, this is Jake Paterson, the room-mate and pain in the ass older brother who I mentioned would forage through your refrigerator like an old bear. Remember? I told you he was a cop and kept an odd schedule."
"You mentioned something to that accord, but there was no reason for me to make a connection. Why don't you have an accent?" She snapped her gum as she glared into Jake's face. It was hard to distinguish his features in the darkness.
"I'm adorable enough not to need one," Jake replied. "My father married his mom and brought him to Arizona to annoy me."
"Are you okay, Ladybug?" Hayden asked with concern. "You can barely keep your eyes open."
Ladybug? Baylor felt taken aback—she had never been given a nickname; at least, not a kind one. "I'm fine! I was just more tired than I thought."
"Jake said you were swaying all over the road. You might be dehydrated still, and I know for a fact that you haven't eaten anything in hours."
"I was not driving that badly," she grumbled, as she rummaged through her purse. "Shit! I locked my house keys in the garage. Do you know of a locksmith I can call?"
"Not at this time of night. Where is your garage door opener?" Hayden asked, leaning over the roof of the car.
"Inside the house," Baylor said gloomily.
"How did you close the garage then?"
"I ran out under it as it was closing. Fuck! What am I going to do?" She blew a big bubble and popped it.
"You are going to calm down and stop swearing," Jake said firmly. "And please spit out that gum. I can pick the lock for you after I get off my shift in the morning. Right now, I gotta get back on patrol. She can have my room tonight."
"I can chew gum if I want to." She popped it again for the annoyance factor. "I'm not staying in your house. I will call a locksmith."
"No, you won't. I don't want a stranger knowing that you are a woman home alone. Now get your fanny into the house and get some rest before you drop in your tracks."
"Excuse me?" Baylor stuttered, shocked by his statement.
"Good idea," Hayden said, ignoring Baylor's protests. "The poor kid looks like she needs a good night's sleep."
"Give her some of your special cocktail, make her a warm bath, and tuck her in," Jake ordered, opening the car door for Baylor to exit. "Don't put up with any lip, either. She's already treading on thin ice."
"Hello!" she snapped, "I am standing right here. Neither of you have any right to tell me what to do. I am not going to put up with—what are you doing?"
"I, young lady, am writing you a ticket," Jake stated, flipping his pad open.
"What? No! I can't afford a ticket!"
"Are you going to mind me and do what you are told?"
"This is illegal. You can't blackmail me into… into…" She snapped her gum angrily.
"Taking care of yourself so you don't end up dead in a ditch? Believe me, I certainly can." He held out his hand under her mouth and snapped his fingers. "Spit it out. Now."
Baylor glared at him and met an unwavering stare in response. He snapped his fingers a second time and she spit her gum into his hand, at which he calmly wrapped it in a tissue from his pocket and handed it to Hayden. "I will see you in the morning. You are not to leave for LA before I get home, understand me?"
"Careful out there, Bro." Hayden waved as Jake mounted his motorcycle and strapped on his helmet. The broad-shouldered man waved, backed his bike out of the driveway and then quietly left down the dark street.
"Unfuckingbelievable." Baylor slammed her car door
closed. "What the hell is wrong with you guys?"
"Shhh, lower your voice. Your screeching is going to wake the neighborhood."
"Okay, let's get two things perfectly clear. First, there are five houses and maybe twenty empty lots on a total of three streets. Our two houses are the only ones even built next to each other so, technically, this is not a neighborhood. Therefore, I don't give a royal shit about what anyone else hears, okay?" Baylor stomped her foot.
She had reached her limits, and now Hayden was going to get the brunt of her anger. "Secondly, I am a grown adult and have every right to make my own choices and decisions. You and that over-testosteroned Cro-Magnon brother of yours have absolutely no right to tell me what to do or force me to comply. That includes chewing gum! Do you hear me?" She slammed her car door and glared up at him.
"The entire county hears you. Inside the house, right this minute," Hayden ordered, his voice becoming stern. He placed his hand on the small of her back and pushed her towards his front door.
Once they were inside, he turned to look at her. "I'm going to draw you a bath and you are going to take the time to calm down and rest. No arguments."
"You can't tell me what to do!"
"I believe I just did. Upstairs with you."
"This is wrong."
"There is nothing wrong with keeping you from killing yourself. You act as though no one has ever taken care of you before."
"I don't need to be taken care of. Let go of my hand."
"I'm not hurting you, you big baby. This is Jake's room. I'll grab you one of Terry's t-shirts. He's the monster among us, and it will go past your knees."
"You are infuriating!"
"And you are welcome," Hayden said, entering the shared bathroom between Jake's and Terry's rooms. He started the water in the large, deep soaking tub. "I'll be right back with my special cocktail."
"Put an extra five shots of whatever it is you put in it!" Baylor yelled after him. She looked longingly at the bubbles forming in the tub. It did look wonderful, and every muscle in her body was crying out for a break.
Her inner conflict, however, prevented her from willingly indulging in the relaxing pleasure of a hot bath—and the compulsion to be nasty and defiant to these guys bothered her immensely.
They had seen her need and simply wanted to help, but she used the excuse that her past situation prevented her from accepting their offers. She was honest with herself in the knowledge that she was overcompensating for her desperate need to discover her own identity apart from anyone else. These poor men were just getting caught in the fall-out, but it was no one's fault but their own. She'd told them to leave her alone!
Baylor grew angry as she again reflected on the failed marriage that had cost her four years of her life. She mourned the wasted time of being with a man who expected her to take care of his every need, and threw adolescent temper tantrums when things did not go his way. She did nothing but cater to him and his demanding family during that time, which gradually eliminated any remnants of her sense of self. Hayden was correct—the degree of their 'dysfunctionality' was beyond anything she had ever seen. According to her in-laws, this familial servitude was her duty—and her one, and only, job—and any whimsical desire playing in her mind to pursue her own goals and desires was never to be entertained 'if she knew what was good for her'.
Baylor rubbed the tense muscles of her neck and unclenched her teeth. Three months had passed since the divorce was finalized, and she still harbored a great deal of resentment towards her ex-husband and his relatives. Regardless of how she felt, it did not mean that she should succumb to the demands of these total strangers who had no position of authority in her life; especially a cop who'd had the audacity to blackmail her into compliance. She shook her head, recalling the embarrassment she felt when he actually made her spit her gum into his hand as though she were a little child.
She was still surly when Hayden returned with his 'cocktail'. He placed a mug on the edge of the tub with a plate of chocolate chip cookies and offered her a cheerful smile. "Here you go, sour puss. It's hot, so don't scald yourself. I got you a t-shirt, towel and washcloth." He handed her the items. "There is soap and shampoo right on the shelf, and new toothbrushes in the bottom drawer. Use anything you need."
Despite her annoyance, Baylor was impressed. Clearly, the man was accustomed to having houseguests, but she had never thought a guy would have thought of little things like this. Still, she refused to give Hayden even well-deserved kudos.
"Why are you doing this? Hasn't anyone had that talk with you about 'stranger danger'? I could be an axe-murderer or a serial rapist. Or worse!"
"Worse? Please don't tell me you're a Christmas elf! Or… or… a Smurf!" Hayden acted horrified. "You are the right size, but I don't see any pointy ears under those ponytails, and your skin doesn't have that lovely cyanotic sheen. Except for your eyes. They are a beautiful shade of blue. What's this? Are you giving me the 'look of death'? My mum used to do that. Didn't work."
"Ha ha." Baylor glowered. "You don't know what I'm capable of."
"I know you don't have your pretty little face plastered on wanted posters at the post office. I haven't checked with Chuck E. Cheese yet. For all I know, you have been banned for life for kicking kids out of the ball pit or stealing their prize tickets." Hayden laughed.
"I haven't been to Chuck E. Cheese in over ten years and have no intention of going back. How do you know I'm not a criminal?"
"Jake ran your license when he stopped you, didn't he? See this?" He pointed to his handsome face, which was marked with a frown. "This is my serious expression. It would be wise to remember what it looks like, because when it's put on, there's a reason."
"Why are you giving me 'Mr. Serious Face'?" Baylor wrinkled her nose.
"Because I want you to take your time and spoil yourself for a while. Do not leave this tub until you've either finished your cocktail or your skin looks like a prune."
"Hayden, this domineering crap you and Jake do is inappropriate. I will not—"
He interrupted her mid-sentence. "I'll be downstairs watching TV if you need me. I promised to make you a burger, too, if you're hungry. Just tell me. Oh, and Baylor?"
"What?" she snipped.
"The chocolate chip cookies are homemade. Terry's special recipe."
Baylor watched him exit the bathroom and close the door behind him. Shaking her head again, she stripped herself of her black tank top and shorts and looked at her body in the mirror with skepticism. Her tiny five foot one frame had lost several needed pounds over the last month and her cheeks had become somewhat angular, making her long, sooty lashed eyes appear huge and doll-like. She had her dark, shoulder-length hair pulled into two ponytail, giving her an even more youthful appearance than her age of twenty-three. No wonder Hayden had treated her like a child and made the Chuck E. Cheese comment! She looked no more than eight years old!
She stepped cautiously into the tub and lowered herself into the cloud of fragrant bubbles. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and submerged her head under the steaming water, enjoying the sound of a world without air. She came up to breathe and started washing her hair, musing about how nice it would be to have someone else run his fingers through her thick strands. Maybe even rub her neck and shoulders a bit, and gently kiss that sensitive little patch of nerves secreted behind her left ear. In some other life, perhaps.
Baylor rinsed out the shampoo and then picked up the mug, sniffing suspiciously. Cautiously, she took a tiny sip and released a satisfied moan. The concoction consisted of hot milk, a square of butter, a generous splash of coconut rum and had been stirred with a cinnamon stick. The cookies sent shivers through her body, as well. She tasted a hint of cinnamon in the dough, and it complemented the delicious hot beverage. Tension melted away for the first time in weeks as she finished her snack and sank her shoulders under the silky bubbles. She was starting to drift to sleep when a tapping on the door awakened her.
"Bayl
or? Are you okay in there? It's been an hour, and that water has got to be getting cold."
"Sorry, I dozed off. I'm getting out," she said sleepily, draining the tub. She grabbed the shower hose and rinsed the remaining suds from her body, then carefully stepped out to pat herself dry. She felt like she was moving in slow motion as she slipped Terry's huge t-shirt over her head. Taking a deep breath, Baylor inhaled the delightfully manly scent of the soft cotton. She would never leave the bed if her sheets smelled this good!
"Feel better?" Hayden asked as she opened the door.
"I'm fine, just tired. That drink was incredible, and knocked my ass out. I think I had a foodgasm with those cookies. Thanks."
"Terry is usually the house mother." Hayden chuckled. "Be glad he's not here, or he would have been bathing and dressing you himself. After he put you in a high chair and hand fed you. He's a little obsessive about taking care of little girls."
"I am not a little girl. As for Terry, I can tell you right here and now that that will never happen; any day or any way."
"We'll see. You don't know Terry. Are you hungry?"
"No, thank you."
"Would you like me to dry your hair?"
"You would do that?" Baylor could not disguise the surprised expression on her face.
"We have two girl cousins who used to spend every summer with us while their parents went adventuring," Hayden said, easing her onto the dressing bench. "I was the only one who didn't make them scream when I messed with them."
"If you're serious, that is the one thing I won't refuse. Especially when I'm this tired."
"You poor kid. You do look like you're going to pass out sitting up."
"I'm not a kid. I happen to be twenty-three. And I keep telling you that I'm fine."
"Of course you're fine," he teased, sounding like he was speaking to a six-year-old. "Let's get you all prettied up and I'll make you some macaroni and cheese. You can eat it in bed if you want."
"I told you that I'm not hungry. What is it with you and food?"
"Serious Face." He pointed to his expression. "I know the signs to look for when someone has reached their physical and mental limit. You, young lady, look like you haven't had a good meal in months, so you are eating. Non-negotiable. I am going to tuck you in and bring a bowl of Mac and Cheese right up to you. Don't try to tell me you don't like it, either, because I know these things."
Moving a Little Heart Page 2
