by Erin Raegan
Holden and Jeremy were skipping out on their scares this year to play in a tent Peterson had rented, so Abby wanted to dress up with me to scare the kids. Even she knew Peterson would find a way to rope me into volunteering, but she wouldn’t be signing up for face-painting or clean-up.
Holden wandered off to talk to a few friends from school who were back for college break. Abby watched him anxiously, her fingers tugging on her perfectly curled red hair, as he flirted with a pretty blonde.
I pulled her fingers free, scowling at her. “You’re beautiful.”
She smiled sadly and finished her beer. “I’m headin’ home. You good?”
I nodded, glaring at Holden. I’d had too many drinks tonight. More than I’d planned. I’d just wanted to ease the throbbing behind my eyes for a little while but now Abby was blurring a little in front of me.
“Just drop it,” she muttered, hugging me.
I sighed and returned her hug. “Stop by the shop tomorrow?”
She blew me a kiss and waved to flag down Chris, the bouncer, to walk her home as he did every weekend. She only lived in the apartments next door, but Chris never let a woman walk home alone, or even to her car.
Holden was drinking a beer when I looked back, and I shook my head in irritation. So much for designated driver. I called our local cab company for a ride and walked over to Jeremy.
“Hey, Jazzy,” I said, interrupting their flirting and not feeling a bit sorry for it.
“Hey, honey, you headin’ out?” Her long chocolate braids shined as she twisted them around her finger, her eyes engrossed in Jeremy’s smile.
“Yeah. You want to share my ride?” I asked Jeremy.
He looked back at Holden and cursed. “Abby left?”
I scowled. “What do you think?”
“I’ll talk to him,” he promised. I wouldn’t hold my breath. “You call a cab?”
I nodded.
“I think I’m gonna stay a while,” he said and nodded Jasmine’s way.
I smirked. He’d be on the stage by next week. “See you tomorrow.”
He waved me off, and I went to the bar entrance to wait for my ride. Unfortunately, Tim Greer was walking inside when I got there.
He leered at me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and pulling me into his side. “I didn’t think to see you here after last week, Boots.”
I shrugged him off. “Don’t call me that.” That was only for Sal.
He and his buddies chortled, likely already drunk. I looked back at Jeremy nervously. Last weekend, Jeremy had threatened to put Tim on his ass after he grabbed my ass. For a second, I debated staying to make sure they didn’t blow past arrogant remarks and posturing tonight, but I was tired and Jeremy and Holden had been more worried about their bed partners for the night than what I was doing.
All in all, the night had been a bust. I felt myself slipping even further from my friends each day. Our lives pulling us in different directions.
So when my cab pulled up, I bailed. The boys could handle themselves. I was done refereeing.
My eyes were heavy and I couldn’t stop yawning as Manny stopped the cab at the end of my driveway. He never pulled up close to the small house, knowing the lights would wake Sal.
“Have a good night, sweetheart,” he told me after I handed him a generous tip. He usually refused me, but I think he could tell I wasn’t up for the argument I always gave him.
The headache that had dogged me all afternoon was still brewing, and I wanted to crawl into my bed with a warm cloth and sleep for days.
Manny waited for me to unlock my front door and step inside before he pulled away.
The house was dark as usual, the only light coming from above the kitchen sink. I sluggishly maneuvered around the couch and coffee table on my way to the kitchen. Sal had stopped waiting up for me on my twenty-first birthday, knowing my nights out would be longer and our trust had always been strong. He kept his phone on his nightstand, always ready to jump up if I ever needed him, and in return when I did come home late, I was quiet and respectful.
I kicked off my boots on the carpet before stepping into the kitchen to fill a glass of water. I had just raised the glass to my dry mouth when a noise in the back of the kitchen startled me. The glass slipped, soaking my shirt.
“Crapsicles,” I hissed, grabbing a kitchen towel.
“Crapsicles?” a quiet voice asked in amusement.
I yelped and spun, facing the basement door. It was dark, but the reflective kitchen light from Killian’s rings and bracelets gave him away. My hand went to my chest as my heart raced. “You scared me.”
He stepped into the dim glow of the kitchen light, grimacing through a smile. “Apologies, I didn’t mean to.”
“What are you doing creeping in the doorway then?” I asked mulishly as I wiped the spilled water from the counter.
He stopped a few feet from me. “Couldn’t sleep.”
I sighed and rubbed my temples.
“Still hurting?”
I backed into the counter as he walked up to me and pressed his thumb into my temple. “Still?” I asked around a groan as he rubbed deep, gentle circles around my temples.
“It bothered you earlier,” he said in a soothing tone.
“Yeah. How did you know?”
He didn’t answer, and I stopped wondering and soaked in the relief his thumbs were giving me. I blinked tiredly as I looked at him.
“Good?” he asked, his voice hushed and his eyes tracing my face curiously.
I nodded dumbly. He slowed his circles, his hands pushing back my hair and smoothing it down to my shoulders.
“You’re kind of touchy-feely,” I told him, my head light and a little fuzzy.
“I like physical contact,” he said, flashing me a quirky grin.
“I can tell,” I said as he rubbed my limp arms. “You’re still a strange man touching me. I should be more offended, shouldn’t I?”
He chuckled. “Should you?”
“I don’t know.” I sighed wistfully. “It feels good.”
His laugh was husky and enthralling. I went willingly into his chest as he tugged me into a hug, rubbing my back in slow circles.
“Oh, you are warm,” I said in wonder, wrapping my arms around his waist and rubbing my cheek into his chest.
My hands started wandering up his muscular back without my permission, exploring every bump and ridge.
He shivered, a groan escaping into my hair.
I hummed. “I’m going to be so embarrassed in the morning.”
“What for?” His hand played with the hem of my sweater, his scorching fingers tickling the skin beneath.
“’Cause I’ll remember your hands and my hands and be mortified I let you feel me up while feeling you up,” I told him, slurring a little, my arms wrapping around his wide shoulders.
He was silent a moment, dropping his chin onto the top of my head. “Is this untoward?”
I snorted, my chest shaking.
“Untoward,” I mocked his deep voice playfully.
He looked at me with a slanted grin. “Uncouth?”
“No, it’s just, you sound like a lord,” I told him, laughing.
“But I am a lord,” he replied proudly.
“Really?” I asked.
He nodded, flashing a grin.
“Where are you from?” My mind filled with images of England and Scotland. But he didn’t sound English or Scottish. There was just something off about his accent. I couldn’t quite place it.
“Far, far from here,” he said.
“I’d like to visit far, far from here. I want to see everything there is to see.”
His hand snaked up the back of my shirt, his nails dragging lightly up the skin of my spine.
“Are you feeling me up?” I asked in a scandalized voice.
“Is that not what we’ve been doing?”
“Your hand is in my shirt,” I pointed out. That was a different level of feeling up.
His da
rk brows rose in surprise. “Are you angry?”
“No.” I sighed, dropping my head back to his chest. “No one ever feels me up. It’s kind of nice.”
“I fear, beautiful female, that the amount of spirits you have consumed are allowing my touch,” he said. But he didn’t pull away.
“Oh for sure,” I told him. “No way will I let you get away with this tomorrow.”
He chuckled, his chest shaking. “I will do my best to entice you.”
“That would be nice.” My eyes grew heavy, the lids fluttering closed. “Maybe you could tell me about your home tomorrow. That would entice me.”
“Perhaps,” he said quietly.
He bent and lifted me in his arms, and I groaned. “No.”
He chuckled again. “I fear it is time for you to retire.”
“Retire,” I drawled over a snort. “Yes, your lordship.”
He groaned as if in pain, muttering a strange word beneath his breath.
“You don’t like lordship?” I asked the drifting ceiling. “What kind of lord are you?”
“I am the lord,” he told me through his laughter. “The only one that matters.”
I huffed a laugh. “Arrogant man.”
“That I am,” he said cheerfully.
Soft pillowy goodness met my back as he laid me down. I squirmed into the cool sheets, rolling onto my belly. Sighing happily as he covered me with my folded blanket.
“Sweet dreams, lovely Theo,” he whispered into my ear, his lips just barely touching my skin.
“You too, Killian.”
“Kil, sweets,” he whispered back. “Call me Kil.”
“’Kay,” I said, already falling into a deep sleep.
The sun woke me. I rubbed my eyes, looking around in confusion.
Then everything from the night before came flooding back, and I buried my burning face into my pillow with a mortified curse.
Warning Signs
Theo
Several days later, I was still doing my level best to hide from Killian’s attention.
The man was not shy. I wasn’t used to so much interest from the opposite sex—especially not from a man I was so attracted to. I didn’t think I’d ever felt this level of attraction before.
I’d had a few dates. A few sexual experiences that were nothing to write home about. But I knew I had never experienced true lust. Abby informed me of this on a regular basis.
But when Killian looked at me in the mornings or over the dinner table at night, I wondered if this was finally it. Lust in its true form.
The guy was scorching. You’d have to be blind not to notice. He wasn’t storybook pretty. His cheekbones were too sharp, his eyes a little too far apart. But those things just made him more appealing. Even more than a typical pretty boy. He had a full bottom lip that pulled my attention every time he spoke, long glossy dark hair that tempted my twitchy fingers. He had the body of a swimmer with the swagger of a man who knew exactly how attractive he was. And his eyes were mesmerizing, unlike any I had ever seen.
I found myself drowning in them from afar far too often.
I was not being subtle. My attraction was blatantly obvious, and it was uncool. But I wasn’t Abby. I had never been good at flirting or seduction, which she so masterfully executed. I was the opposite of smooth.
I was never going to be into dresses and sparkly heels. I rarely wore makeup or did more to my hair than run a comb through it. I wore my feelings on my face and couldn’t for the life of me find the kind of confidence that would ever allow me to voice them.
It made for awkward workdays at the salvage yard and even more awkward meals at home now that Killian was everywhere I seemed to be.
Sal was catching on to my embarrassed fumbling and attempts at avoiding our guests. Watching me a little too closely. Glaring at Killian a little too often.
Aunt Bets had known the very next morning—the morning after my humiliating drunk encounter—and wore a thrilled grin every time Killian was in the room. She was tickled pink that I couldn’t seem to act like a normal human being around the man. She got far too much enjoyment from my embarrassment and confusion, teasing me relentlessly as if I were a young girl with her first crush.
But I didn’t know what to do about it.
Killian didn’t help the situation at all.
I could have handled myself better if he ignored my floundering and shy looks. It would have stung if he turned away from them, but that would make living with him easier.
But he didn’t do that. He welcomed my embarrassment, seeking me out all the time just to watch me flop around and trip over my words. He was eating it up and it was irritating.
I’d had my hands all over him and vaguely remembered his hands all over me. I was both mortified about that entire night and full of indignation. He had totally taken advantage of my inebriated state.
But he hadn’t stepped over the line. He had taken me to bed before it got out of hand and was nothing but polite the next day—well, mostly. Him silently laughing at me as I fumbled through my apology and the scolding I gave him was burned into my brain.
On top of all that, it was hard to stay mad at him. He was too charming, too happy all the time. He was sweet to my aunt and so, so polite.
He, Oren, and Leo helped Sal all over the salvage yard, and I knew that was all Killian’s doing. Oren and Leo looked annoyed every time Sal or Frank asked for a favor, pulling them from their work, so I knew Killian was behind their compliance.
Most days they were taking apart cars and salvaging various parts. Jeremy had helped them load his truck several times with engine parts, soldered framework, and piles and piles of what looked like junk to me.
Sal’s mood was ecstatic every morning he woke up to see them salvaging more. Money in his eyes. Not once did anyone ask what they needed it all for. Every time I wanted to, I seemed to get distracted by one thing or another, or by Killian himself.
But it was now day three, and I knew for sure they weren’t fixing up some car. They had to be pulling parts for a fleet of them. But where did they take the parts? Jeremy always handed over the keys to his truck without a word. Even when Oren’s terrible driving skills nearly caused him to crash into Sal’s tow truck, not one word of protest left Jeremy’s lips.
It was weird.
Everything around here lately was weird.
Leo’s oddly silent and mute disposition.
Oren’s strange looks exchanged with Killian. He was always interrupting Killian when it seemed he was going to speak to me for any length of time. I got the impression Oren did not approve of my interest or—if I was right and not reading into his hot looks—Killian’s returned interest.
And though my headache from that first day I met him had dissipated, Sal had complained of one the next day. Then Jeremy.
Aunt Bets had made doctor’s appointments for them, much to my uncle’s displeasure. She went off on him about black mold and asbestos for hours until he agreed to go just to quiet her.
Stranger still, we didn’t know where the three of them went every evening. Oren took those parts somewhere. He was often gone for hours at a time. Where was he taking them? What was he doing with them?
Why didn’t Killian cough up these answers?
What the hell was going on?
Hands moved to my shoulders from behind and I startled out of my chaotic musings.
“You’re thinking awfully hard, sweets,” Killian murmured into my ear.
I flushed, avoiding his eyes.
He stepped to my side and bent to catch my eyes. “What’s bothering you?”
“So many things,” I muttered sullenly.
He frowned, the skin around his eyes crinkling. Even that was attractive.
He grinned. I narrowed my eyes at him. He seemed to react too perceptively to my thoughts sometimes. Like he could hear them. Just one more odd thing about this entire situation.
He frowned again.
I huffed, confusion and irritation
plummeting my mood.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said softly, searching my face.
I flushed and looked away from him again.
He leaned against my desk and folded his arms across his chest. “You are angry with me.”
“No,” I said. “Yes. I don’t know. Maybe.”
He chuckled. “Your mind is fascinating.”
I shook my head. “My mind is confused.” And worried. And he made everything hazy when he played with my hair like that.
He sighed and dropped my hair. “I have a brother.”
He started to say it like a statement, but it ended a little too like a question.
“You do?”
He stiffened and nodded.
I frowned. “Okay…”
“We are collecting parts for”—his brow scrunched—“a project of his.”
My head tilted. “Is he restoring a car?”
Killian looked at me and slowly nodded. “Yes.”
“You don’t sound sure.”
He bit his bottom lip. I told myself not to look, but I was beginning to think he knew I would anyway. “I am sure.”
“He must be restoring a lot of them.” They were taking a ton of stuff out of here every day.
“Yes.”
“Okay, that’s cool. So where does he live?”
Killian looked behind me, his eyebrows scrunching. “Close.”
“Like how close?” Not in this town. I would have noticed a man that looked like Killian.
“Not too close?”
“Are you asking me?” I huffed a bewildered laugh.
Killian sighed and stood, rubbing at his brows. “I’m mucking this up.”
“No kidding.” I grinned. But I thought he was trying to explain to me why he was here. That was more than he’d given any of us so far.
“He is a private hum—person. He asked me to collect these things for him, so that is why we are here.”
“Oh, well, why didn’t you tell us that days ago?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t realize my presence here seemed suspicious.”
That seemed like a load of bull crap, but I didn’t say that. “All three of you are pretty suspicious.”
