Begging for Bad Boys

by Willow Winters

  “You sure you’re okay?” He steps inside and closes the door behind us. “I’m no expert, but if I had to give an honest opinion, I’d say you look a teensy bit stressed. More so than usual, I mean.”

  “I’m fine.”

  He slides his hands into his pockets and waits, standing still in front of my desk until I heave an angry sigh.

  “She’s on my lawn.”

  Bobby blinks. “Huh?”

  “That girl from yesterday,” I say. “Hannah. She’s on my lawn.”

  He takes a seat in the chair beside him. “Hazel?”

  I point a finger. “Yeah, that one.”

  “Why is she on your lawn?”

  “She’s engaging in a silent protest.” I flick the top button open on my shirt to take a deeper breath. “She followed me home last night after practically attacking me in the parking garage. Says she won’t leave until I have a serious discussion with her about saving Lover’s Trail.”

  His mouth sags. “Whoa. That’s a little…”

  “Crazy. I know. I didn’t get any sleep last night. Every time I closed my eyes, I could feel her watching me through my bedroom window.”

  I twitch my limbs to shake the phantom crawlers off my skin.

  “So…” Bobby leans back and crosses his arms, “what you’re telling me is that there’s a stunningly gorgeous, blonde-haired, city girl sitting outside your house right now, waiting for you to come home, willing to do whatever it takes to change your mind… and you’re here with me talking about irrigation budgets? This is why God invented sick days.”

  I glare at him. “Are you suggesting that I go home and take advantage of the mentally unstable woman living on my lawn?”

  “Well, no, not when you put it like that…”

  “She needs help, Bob.”

  “Obviously.”

  “The professional kind.”

  “Or…” he says, “she just needs someone to listen to her and comfort her. You know, give her a shoulder to cry on—”

  “Bobby.”

  He throws up his hands. “Okay, okay…”

  I pick up the report in front of me but instantly drop it back down. “And she’s not stunningly gorgeous.”

  He scoffs. “Really?”

  “She’s… cute,” I say. “At the most.”

  He lets it slide. “Have you tried talking to her about it instead of just saying no?”

  “Why bother?” I ask. “This is happening. It’s too late to even consider canceling it and I don’t have time to sit through yet another bullshit sob story. I heard enough of that from the city council.”

  “Exactly,” he says, “but you talked through it with the council and now, they’re all on your side. Talk to her. Use logic and rational thinking to get through to her. If anyone can convince her to back down, it’s you.”

  I pause to think. “I don’t know if that’ll work. She seems really emotionally invested in this. You can’t reason with the unreasonable.”

  “Leo, I’ve never seen you not be able to talk your way out of anything. It’s your most admirable trait.”

  “Really?”

  “That and your womb broom.” He tugs on his chin and I laugh. “Just sit her down, lay out the logical facts, maybe apologize to her—”

  I furrow my brow at him.

  “Or not.”

  “Look, Bobby,” I sigh. “I get it but I don’t think it’ll work on this one. If she’s still lingering around when I get home, I’ll just call the police and be done with it.”

  “It’s up to you,” he says, standing up, “but I also know that you won’t be able to sleep again tonight if she’s out there hating on you.”

  “That’s not true. I don’t even know her. What do I care if she hates me?”

  “Leo…” He tilts his head. “Remember when my sister stopped by for my birthday last year?”

  “Yeah, Melanie.”

  “Mandy.”

  “Whatever.”

  “And remember how she told me she thought you were a little obsessive and you spent the next three days calling her and trying to convince her you weren’t?”

  I swallow. “That was a completely different situation.”

  He chuckles. “My point is that you care what people think about you. A lot. Last I checked, Hazel Smith was people.”

  “Crazy people,” I murmur.

  “Still people.”

  I pick up the report to change the subject. “Any other messages?”

  “Nope. You’re clear.”

  “Good. Leave me alone.”

  Bobby laughs to himself on his way out. “Oh, there’s a big storm rolling in for tonight,” he says, pausing in the doorway. “You might want to leave a little earlier today to run by the store and pick up supplies in case you get flooded-in up there for the weekend.”

  I nod. “Good idea. Thanks.”

  “Bread, milk, a bottle of wine...” He smirks. “Scented candles.”

  I furrow my brow and lean back in my chair. “So, that week in June when you were out with pneumonia…?”

  He clears his throat. “Twins. They were Swedish.”

  “You’re forgiven. Don’t do it again.”

  “I make no promises.”

  He disappears into the lobby and closes the door behind him.

  I turn to the irrigation report, scanning the text for relevant information to add to my presentation to the board.

  I am not obsessive.

  Driven, yes. Dedicated, sure. But obsessive? No way.

  I like doing a good job. I like being thorough. Crossing Ts and dotting Is are what separates the men from the boys in my line of work. Hell, in all lines of work. Details make all the difference in the world and I sure as hell won’t apologize for it.

  That does not make me obsessive.

  I press the call button on my phone. “Hey, Bobby, what’s Mandy up to nowadays?”

  “Dude, let it go.”

  I grit my teeth and hang up.

  “And that’s why Jackman Springs is not only a smart investment for this community; it’s a sure-fire win for this company that’s guaranteed to make a profit within the first year.”

  I recite the speech from memory on my drive home from the store, softly munching on an apple as I take the mountain road upward. The sky looks a little dimmer than usual. Storm clouds fill the landscape, promising a rough night ahead but I’ve got more than enough supplies to last through the weekend — wine and candles excluded.

  I’m almost tempted to go ahead and call the cops now. When that storm hits, it’ll be impossible for them to make it up the mountain to retrieve Hazel but, judging on how black this sky is, she’s probably already hightailed it out of here herself. If she’s smart, anyway. Not quite sold on that yet.

  The drizzle begins as I reach the driveway and thunder rumbles the distant sky. One look towards my house and my stomach churns.

  Hazel Smith sits on my porch steps next to my goddamn dog.

  I park my truck and step out, scooping up the half-dozen grocery bags with one hand.

  Hazel stares at me across the lawn and her lips curl into a shit-eating grin. “Welcome home, dear,” Hazel says, gently petting Pearl’s head. “How was work?”

  I take another bite from my apple, leaving little left but the core and her eyes twitch at it. Oh, yeah. That’s right. She’s probably starving.

  I chew with my mouth open as I walk over her to unlock my door. I push it open, instinctively sliding to the side to let the dog run in first but she doesn’t appear.

  Pearl sits still next to Hazel, quietly panting and licking her hand.

  Hazel smiles. “I wasn’t sure what your dog’s name was so I renamed him Waldo.”

  I flex my jaw. “Her name is Pearl.”

  “Oh.” Hazel looks my dog and scratches beneath her chin. “I like Waldo better.”

  “Pearl, get inside,” I say. The dog doesn’t move. “Pearl… get inside.”

  “Go on in, Waldo.”


  The dog rises and rushes through the doorway, nearly knocking me off-balance as she fires between my knees. I glare at her wagging tail as she skips across the living room to curl up by the fireplace.

  Oh, hell no.

  I lean over Hazel’s smug expression. “Do not mess with a man’s dog.”

  I bring the apple to my mouth and take the last bite, revealing the hungry hatred on her face.

  She sticks her tongue out at me like a spoiled child.

  “Here…” I drop the apple core and she catches it by reflex. “You can have this.”

  “Ew!” she gasps, nearly dropping it, but the sudden growl echoing from the dark chambers of her stomach keeps her fingers clenched.

  I wait a moment but she won’t eat it in front of me. She’ll wait until I’m gone before chowing down on what’s left of it but I don’t really blame her. She’s stronger-willed than she looks. Way stronger.

  I definitely underestimated her.

  Lightning flashes in the sky and I smile.

  “Storm’s coming,” I tell her. “Good luck staying warm.”

  To my surprise, Hazel brings the apple to her mouth and takes a bite. “See?” she says, chewing. “I told you that you wouldn’t let me starve.”

  I frown and stomp through the front door.

  “You’re a good person, Leonard Jackman!”

  “No, I’m not.” I slam it closed behind me.

  “You won’t let me freeze to death!”

  “Oh, yes, I will,” I mutter to myself as I throw the grocery bags on the kitchen counter.

  Pearl barks and I look down to see her waiting anxiously by her food bowl at my feet.

  “Oh, no,” I say, shaking my head. “Bad dogs don’t get food.”

  She tilts her head in confusion.

  “You fraternized with the enemy, Pearl — and that is, in fact, your real name.”

  I keep out some fresh bread and deli meat to make a sandwich with while I put the rest of the groceries away. Pearl watches me with hopeful eyes and every glance at her warms my heart a little more. Of course, I won’t punish her for much longer. She’s just a dog and doesn’t know any better but that Waldo trick was way too far.

  It’s on now, Hazel Smith.

  The storm rages outside. Wind and rain scratch along my roof while I throw an extra log on the fire to keep it bright. The lights flicker. I tap my pocket to make sure I still have my lighter in case the power goes out.

  Any other night and I’d be content. Nothing relaxes me more than a decent storm but I can’t seem to sit still for two seconds tonight — not with that shrew lounging on my porch.

  I lower down onto my chair to try and relax by the fire but Pearl plants herself at my feet and stares at me.

  “What?” I ask her.

  She lets out a soft whine and her head jerks towards the front door.

  “What?” I ask again.

  She moans louder.

  I glance over my shoulder towards the porch. “No. Go lay down.”

  Pearl doesn’t budge. She wags her tail, her snout once again pointing right at my unwanted pest.

  “Oh, come on,” I snap. “Don’t tell me you’re on her side.”

  She raises a paw and scratches my knee.

  I lean closer until we’re eye-to-eye. “No.”

  Finally, the dog walks off but she sits down by the front door with her eyes still locked on me.

  I stand up in annoyance and follow her across the living room. “Pearl, come on. Get away from the—”

  I pause and peek through the curtains to see Hazel wrapped up on the porch in that paper-thin jacket of hers. Her entire shape isn’t visible but I can clearly make out the white wisps of her breath in the cold and her quivering ankles sticking out the bottom.

  Pearl swipes at my knee again and stares up with wide, begging eyes.

  Ah, dammit.

  Chapter 7

  Hazel

  “Get in here.”

  I flinch and crane my neck to look up at the open door. “What?” I ask.

  Leo stands in the doorway with one foot out. “I don’t want to have to explain to the cops why there’s a dead girl on my porch in the morning. Get in here. Now.”

  Warm air from inside touches my skin and I jump to my feet.

  “But—” he points a stiff finger at me, “if you mention one word about Lover’s Trail, I will toss you right back out on your ass. Got it?”

  I nod and throw up a scout’s honor with my shaking fingers. “Yes, sir,” I say, desperately trying to keep my teeth from chattering.

  He sneers at me but says nothing as he slides to the side in the open doorway.

  I move around him into the house, feeling the quick rush of heat on my skin growing stronger as I beeline for the fireplace across the living room.

  “Try not to track anything in...” he says.

  I give him a nod and check my shoes as I walk but nothing is going to stop me from getting within arm’s reach of that flame.

  I settle on a rug by the fire and hover my open palms over it, sighing with happiness and I don’t lower them again until the heat becomes unbearable on my fingertips.

  The dog joins me at the fireplace, panting and smiling until I reach out to stroke her long hair.

  “Thanks, buddy,” I whisper, giving her head a quick pet.

  She steps up onto my knee to lick my face, nearly toppling me over and I laugh at the enthusiasm.

  “Pearl, come on. Give her a break.”

  I look over my shoulder. Leo stands across the room with his back against the front door.

  “It’s okay,” I say, my lips tingling. I can finally feel them again. That’s a good sign.

  I slide my jacket off, trying not to let too many drops of rain splatter everywhere as Pearl laps it up off the wooden floor.

  Leo walks over and offers an open hand. “I’ll take that.”

  I give him my jacket and he hangs it on a hook by the door. “Thank you.”

  I turn my attention back to the flame, hoping the blood rushing through my cheeks is from the heat and not something else.

  I’m inside. Now what?

  Get him to talk to me.

  He’s already warned me not to bring up the project or else I’ll have to suffer through the night outside. Do I really think he’ll kick me out? Probably not. Especially not on a night like this but I can at least keep things pleasant.

  I glance around the living room, noting the strong, wooden furniture and rustic furnishings. “Nice place.”

  Leo sits in a nearby armchair. “Thanks.”

  “Looks much smaller on the outside,” I say, scanning the tall ceilings. “Not gonna lie, I kind of expected you to have one of those old stoves or a butterchurn and a gun rack over the door or something.”

  He shrugs. “It was like that when I found it. More or less.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah, I gutted it out, put in some newer stuff. Added electricity, indoor plumbing, and whatnot.”

  “Cool,” I nod.

  His eyes fall to his lap. I must look hideous. And I’m pretty sure that strange smell is me. There’s no way I’m going to make him put his guard down unless there’s a good reason for him to.

  “So, plumbing, eh?” I ask.

  His eyes squint with confusion. “Yeah, plumbing.”

  “I know you’re probably done helping me and the last thing I should expect right now is a favor but... do you think I could borrow your shower for five minutes?”

  He raises a hand and points his thumb at the hallway behind him. “First door on the left.”

  “Thank you,” I breathe, pushing off the floor.

  “There are extra towels in the closet and a clean robe on the back of the door.”

  “Thank you. Thank you.”

  I rush through the room, feeling his eyes on me the whole time until I disappear into the hall. The first door sits ajar and I bolt through it to get out of his eye-line.

  I close
it and flick on the light. “Oh, wow...”

  When he says he gutted the place, he really gutted it. For a second, I think I’ve been transported to some swanky hotel. There’s a walk-in shower in one corner and a porcelain tub in the other. Even the toilet looks downright majestic and — Oh, wow. Is that a bidet?

  I ignore the lavish amenities and look at myself in the mirror for the first time since yesterday morning. Oh, god. Definitely hideous. I run my fingers through my hair to comb out the tangles, feeling the dirt and grease nestled between the strands and I cringe. All of this will be worth it if I can make him have just one serious conversation about Lover’s Trail.

  I pull open the small closet by the sink to find several clean, stacked towels inside, just like he said there would be. My fingers sink into them; thick and soft. Even the robe is amazing. For a guy that lives out in the middle of nowhere, he certainly enjoys his luxury. I wonder what else he has in this place.

  I pop open the medicine cabinet above the sink and my jaw drops.

  It’s mostly just aspirin, caffeine pills, daily vitamins, and — oh, yeah — a box of magnum-sized condoms. An open box.

  Curiosity takes over. I listen with both ears for movement outside as I reach for the box, eager to see just how big a “magnum” is.

  I roll a finger around the ring within the golden foil. Wow. Either he’s a gifted man or he’s completely full of himself. Probably the latter.

  I move to set them back on the shelf but I pause to count them first. It’s a twelve-pack and only one has been used. He must not get a lot of company around here, meaning he might have one thing on his mind right now and I was stupid enough to just walk in here all by myself in the middle of a storm with no phone and no way off this freakin’ mountain.

  Real smart, Hazel.

  But he wouldn’t try anything, right? He hates me, right? I’m safe here... right?

  Ah, crap.

  I really didn’t think this one through.

  I eye the doorknob to search for a lock but it doesn’t have one.

  Double crap.

  I stare at the condoms in my hand as my interest peaks. On second thought, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad…

  Ugh. Get real, Hazel.

  He’d never go for a girl like me.