He laughs softly and drops his head. "Yeah, I live on a friend's couch and mow lawns for a living. It isn't something to be proud of. I did want more for myself, but that's not an option now."
I twist my body to face him, pulling my legs up from the edge. "It's not too late," I tell him.
"For you, it's not too late, Haven. You can graduate high school and go to college if you want. As for me, though, I dropped out of high school. I wouldn't be able to get a salaried job even if I offered up a limb. You know how it is in this area."
"Get your diploma. Take whatever classes you have to. You're twenty-one. It's not too late."
He snickers as he leans back onto his elbows. "Sounds easy."
"Is this water swimmable? Any alligators?" I ask, feeling the heat from the sun scorch every inch of my exposed skin. I don't spend much time outside, and when I do, my fair skin on a nearly red-headed girl isn't very compromising.
"Nah, it’s safe over here. They’ve never seen any gators near here," he says.
"Close your eyes, then." I stand up and wait for him to do as I ask.
Instead, he looks at me with a raised brow.
"Despite the fact that you took your clothes off in front of an open window last week, I'll be a gentleman.” A gentleman wouldn’t be laughing through his words, and every time he reminds me I did that, I feel a little worse. Desperation is not attractive on me.
Raine turns his head, facing the opposite direction, so I take the opportunity to slip my shorts and top off. I kick my shoes to the side and jump from the edge of the dock into the bath-like water. "Okay, you can look now," I shout up to him.
He glances down at me with a small smile, almost like he knows this is all I ever want to do. This is what I dream of doing...swimming in a lake, being free and having a friend to share it with.
He tears his shirt over his head and stands up, stepping out of his shoes and dropping his pants. The sight of this causes me to gasp, and I turn around to give him the privacy I asked for. "Why didn't you tell me to turn around?"
"Boxers are the same as a bathing suit, minus the water resistance of course." And a lot shorter. He forgot to mention that part. A large splash showers over me, and I turn to find him. He's under the water, and I watch as his dark silhouette glides toward me. Raine emerges with his hair slicked back and a glimmer in his eyes. "Good idea."
"I'm full of good ideas," I quip, knowing there are no words for the sight I’m seeing.
"Yeah, like walking into a smoky biker bar alone?"
"Yup, just like taking home a sleazy woman you know nothing about." I can play too. I know he thinks I'm an idiot, but his choice of women the two nights I spotted him at the bar didn't exactly scream the definition of intelligence.
"Jealous?" he teases.
"No." I duck under the water, letting myself sink to the bottom where my toes brush against thousands of smooth rocks. I open my eyes, panning around, finding nothing but clean water and some small fish. With my much-needed pause, I float back to the top and push my wet hair out of my face.
"Do you always run away from serious questions?" he asks.
"I answered you, and I don't think your question had much seriousness to it." Why is he looking at me the way he is—like I'm a broken girl? Jealousy doesn't define a person, especially since I know little about him. I have no right to be jealous or feel much of anything for that matter.
"Why did you take your clothes off last week? I know you intended for me to see you. Yet, I know you aren't that girl."
I find myself unable to explain anything beyond the truth. "I wanted your attention."
"Besides the fact that it worked, you could have just come outside and said ‘Hi.’ That would have gotten my attention too." His hand finds mine as he intertwines our fingers—the sensation of his touch surprises me. I can't see through the water and wouldn't expect this type of gesture from him after being pushed away the last couple of times.
"Guys like you don't fall for girls who just say, ‘Hi’,” I explain.
He brings our hands up above the water and presses my knuckles against his warm, kissable lips. The smallest bit of affections causes heat to rush through my cheeks and a flutter to erupt in the pit of my stomach. "If I were the guy you're accusing me of being, I'd agree. However, I'm not that guy. I’m someone who knows a good thing when he sees it."
"That's bull," I argue. "How many women have you taken home from that bar?"
His arm sweeps around my back, and he pulls me in a little a closer. "I may have needs and desires, but I don't confuse that with something that could someday be real." Forgetting the fact that I’m having a hard time breathing with his arm wrapped around me the way it is, I have basically thrown myself at him the same way he was baiting those women home. Technically, I'm no better. My need may not have been sexual, but I had a desire to be noticed.
"What is real?" It's such a broad question, but I get the feeling he has a simple answer.
He pulls me in even closer, our chests meeting, and our hearts pounding into each other. “Knowing there is a connection—one that makes you take a deeper look, thoughts of a person, which linger overnight, and a desire for more, even if it means getting my head chewed off by a five-foot-nothing, hot-headed, freckle-faced, badass wannabe." While I want to take the last part as an insult, there's truth to it—there's truth to everything he's saying and an explanation for the way I've been feeling. A connection.
"Now what?" I ask, looking up past his wet lashes and into his deep gaze.
"We wait until you're not living under the mayor's roof. I'm not about to go messing with him."
He's out of his mind.
"I won't tell anyone if that's what you're worried about." My words have no meaning to him. I am the mayor's daughter, and once again, that little fact has screwed up my life. "People do this sort of thing all the time."
He closes his eyes and exhales softly, though his heart is pounding faster than it was a minute ago. I find my grip tightening around him, pressing against all the ridged muscles of his back, waiting for him to reopen his eyes and tell me what he wants from me. I'm not going to beg, even though it’s what I want to do.
With his eyes still closed, his hands lower down my back, and he wraps them around my legs, lifting me up, bringing me to face level. Raine’s hand finds my cheek and his wet lips part.
His nose presses to the side of mine and he whispers, "This scares me, Haven. I just know you're going to get me in trouble."
"And you're going to break my heart," I tell him. I can tell by the look I just saw in his eyes.
“Then, I think we both know what should not happen right now. I don’t want to hurt you, and the best way to avoid that is to release my grip, replace the space between us, and tell you we can’t be more than friends.”
I may be a wealthy girl, but my heart is broken and struggling through poverty.
6
Raine
I'm out of my goddamn mind. Haven is a piece of gold, and I'm trash. I watch as she makes her way around the side of her house, slipping inside the door. I can leave now, but instead, I wait for her to appear in her bedroom window.
She presses her hand up against the glass and waves goodbye. Now, I should leave. Put the truck in drive, Raine. At the sight of a six-figure sedan crawling down the street, I peel away from the curb, wondering if anyone realizes that the mayor's salary in this town wouldn't cover a mortgage for a house this size, or a car like the one rolling by.
Normally, I have jobs scheduled throughout the day on Saturdays, but evidently, it's a big party weekend, and all my clients are hosting in their backyards.
I pull into the lot of Crow's apartment, finding his bike parked out front. Guess it's still early to be opening the bar up. That sucks. I was hoping to get some sleep for a change. He's been up banging some chick for the past two weeks, and I'm starting to wonder if it's getting serious. Obviously not serious enough that I've met the woman, but Crow typically likes t
o keep things moving. Out with the old and in with the new.
I take the stairs up to the second floor and grab the key from my back pocket—or go to grab the key that was in my back pocket. Shit. I try the knob, thankfully finding the door's unlocked. I'll worry about the key later. I walk inside to a smoke-filled room where Crow and the chick of choice are sprawled out on the couch—my bed—watching TV.
"Bro, this is Kacee. Kacee, Raine." I step in a little closer, getting a good look at her. Kacee. Never knew her name but, yup… had her on this couch before. Shit.
"Oh," she says. "Hey, Raine."
"You two know each other or some shit?" Crow asks her.
I take the moment between the question and her answer to scratch at my chin with guilt I shouldn't have. How could I have known he'd be sloppy seconds?
"Yeah," she says with an accent I still can't decipher. I want to say she's from New York, but if she is, what the hell is she doing down here in Louisiana?
"Ah, no shit, from where?" Crow presses, still completely unaware of what may or may not come out of her mouth. Maybe she'll lie. It would be best for all of us if she did.
"We fucked last month. Right here, on this couch." Her bluntness drives a nail through Crow's head, and I'm suddenly very aware of the fact that she hasn't met Crow's other side. Not just anyone can run a biker bar. A bar owner in the town of Sutter may need a couple of loose screws to manage a particularly hot-headed crowd every night, and well... Crow fits the role nicely.
He stands up from the couch, first pressing his fingers into his temples where his bulging veins are growing thicker by the minute. As red as his face is turning, I can't imagine how high his blood pressure must be but he does his best to blow the steam out of his mouth first. However, I've seen this whole scene before. With every new breath, he takes, a little more fury grows within him. "Why the fuck didn't either of you tell me?" he hisses.
Kacee looks at me with surprise and then back at him. "I had no idea," she says, whining a little. "Anytime I've come or gone, he hasn't been here, or he's been asleep on the couch with his back facing the wall.”
Crow laughs softly, cynicism corroding the sound. "You fucked him on this couch, you dipshit," Crow mumbles softly to her. The softer he gets, the more rage he's suppressing.
"What the fuck?" she groans, standing up from the couch. Is she wearing last night's clothes or does she wear leather pants during the day too? "It was dark in here, and I left when we were done."
"How many people have you fucked in this complex then?" Crow asks her. The first beer bottle has been thrown, and it shatters against the wall. The sound echoes in the hollow of this decent size room that holds one couch—the scene of the crime—and one entertainment center.
Kacee jumps and clutches at her chest. "Jesus! I'm sorry, okay? How the hell was I supposed to know you two were roommates?"
"You could have mentioned it at some point in the past three weeks," Crow yells back.
No one is looking at me, and I'm beginning to feel like a very unwelcome fly on the wall here. I had no idea, though. I would have told Crow. I have no shame or anything to hide. She did kind of suck in the sack, though, so I'm not sure what he's getting all huffy about. Crow has girls fawning all over him every goddamn night at that bar. Chicks like Kacee go to Crow's just to find a guy specifically like him. Then there are girls like Haven, who have no idea what they’re getting themselves into.
"Well, I'm sorry," she shouts. "Maybe I didn't want to scare you away."
"For real?" he asks, his tone calming to a gentler volume.
"Yeah. I mean, I like you," Kacee says to him, grinning with one brow raised.
"I like you too," Crow says, softening up like a goddamn fuzzy bunny.
The two of them move toward each other, and without regard for me standing here, Crow scoops her up as her legs straddle around his waist. Clothes are flinging in the air, and it seems like the perfect time to go find my missing key. Jesus. I am never fucking sleeping again.
I leave the apartment and hop back into my truck, searching the seats and everywhere in between. Maybe the key fell out when I was taking my shorts off earlier. The thought of walking the mile back to the dock makes me want to forget about the key, throw my seat back and take that nap right here. Except it's hot as a dog's ass after a huge load, and the truck's dark interior amplifies the temperature.
I drive the few miles down to the edge of the woods and make the trek back to the dock. Well, this was a waste of an hour. It's not here. Crow's going to fucking kill me. His landlord charges two-hundred bucks for missing keys. I'll pay for it, but it'll take me a bit to get him the money. And that's pretty much the last thing I want to waste two hundred on. The only other place it could be is somewhere in the acre of land surrounding Haven's house. I doubt there's any way I'll find it, but I have to at least try.
When I make it back to my truck, I rev it up and glance at the clock. How the hell is it four already? The Sheriff's Ball or whatever the hell it’s called, starts at five, which means Haven's parents must be gone by now. There are only a couple hours of sunlight left, so I better get over there if I want any hope of finding the key.
I pull up off to the side of her house and begin my pace from left to right across her yard. If anyone's watching me right now, I probably look like a damn freak. Making it across the entire front lawn with no luck, I pass by Haven's bedroom, trying not to wonder what she's up to right now. I avoid looking in and continue my hunt around to the back yard. As I pass their outdoor kitchen, a glimmer of something catches my eye, and thank the fucking heavens above, it's my goddamn key. I don't want to know how it ended up on the patio, but whatever, I have it. Now that I have it, I can keep it in my pocket because I am not going back to Crow's anytime soon, especially now that I know who he's screwing.
"What are you doing?" Haven's voice scares the crap out of me, and I look around to see where the hell she is. "I'm over here." I turn around, finding her curled up on a deck couch, reading.
"I—ah, lost my key," I tell her.
"I was wondering whose key that was. Of all the places to drop it, huh?"
"And here I was thinking there was a very slim chance of finding it somewhere in your yard." I step up onto the patio and dip my hands into my back pockets.
"You don't have a spare key?" she asks. There's some kind of tone in her voice, one I can't make out. Is she pissed at me for something? I should be able to answer that. I know what she's angry about, but she has to understand. I almost caved and kissed her, but thankfully, I realized what would happen if I broke down. Messing with her father isn't something I can do, which means I can't cave.
"The guy I live with does."
"So, why didn't you just get a copy made?" she asks.
My focus settles on her face for longer than it should, not having a good answer to her question without explaining the two-hundred-dollar fee, why that's a big deal to me, and probably pocket change to someone like her. "I didn't want it floating around somewhere."
"Hmm," she sighs.
I pinch the back of my neck, working out the stress that's currently making me feel like there's a boulder sitting on my shoulders. "Are you mad about something?" I ask, thinking I already determined the answer to this but it’s obvious she wants me to ask. That's what chicks do. They act like nothing's wrong, while at the same time sending daggers out through their eyes.
"No," she answers quietly.
"Look, I'm sorry if I caused you to be angry or whatever. It was never my intention. It looked like you needed a friend—"
"Just stop, okay?" It didn't look like she wanted a friend. It looked like she wanted me, period. She has no clue what she'd be getting herself into, and beyond that, I can't tempt my fate with the officials of this town again. As much as I'd love to share a cell with pops, I'm all set. "I'm not going to sugar-coat this, Raine. You made me feel ridiculous today. I get it. I'm younger than you, and I have no clue what I'm doing. I'm an idiot. Blah, blah,
blah. I've heard it all before. And that bull about a connection. Really?" I'm listening to her every word. I'm watching pain work itself into her face. I'm an asshole, and it isn't a new revelation. I can sit here and tell her it wasn't bull, but I can see why it sounds like that. Though, if I were making up all of that crap about a connection, it would be so I could take advantage of her. That's not quite what happened, so again, I don't understand her argument.
"I did want to be friends," I tell her. "I mean...I do." I sound as stupid as Crow did, telling Kacee he liked her.
She looks me up and down as her lip curls into a small snarl. "You don't want to be friends with me," she says as a statement rather than a question. She's right; I want to throw her over my shoulder, bring her to her room, and do what I can't stop thinking about. I'm guessing she doesn't want to hear that, followed by me telling her I can’t do that.
"Why wouldn’t I want to be friends with you," I ask her.
"I think a better question is…why would you want to be friends with me?"
With the back and forth banter between us, I might consider her question more carefully. She's pushing my buttons, and the anger I've been doing my damnedest to suppress is starting to fill my chest. I hate being questioned or quizzed, whatever she’s doing to try and extract some kind of answer she wants to hear. "Why do I have to keep answering the same question? You didn't believe me the last time you asked, and you're not going to believe me if I give you the same answer this time," I tell her.
"It just doesn't make sense to me," she continues. “Your behavior is erratic and crazy. I don’t even know what to make of you or anything you say.”
"My behavior is erratic and crazy?” I shout a little louder than I should be in this neighborhood. “You’re the one who took your clothes off in front of a fucking window, knowing I—someone you knew jack shit about—was watching. You think that screams 'sane person'?"
Haven tosses her book down and stands up from the chair. "I knew you were an ass. I figured that one out today," she says. "Like I said, I regret what I did. I can't exactly take it back, but I'm going to guess that you already know what it's like to make a mistake and then pay the consequences for it afterwards." It's clear that she knows more about me than I thought—than I wish she knew.
Raine's Haven Page 5
