by J. Richards
“Hey! Gavin!” The man’s voice is loaded with a Russian accent. He hops up against the bar to clasp Gavin’s hand in a brotherly show of affection.
“Uri! How’s it going?” Gavin’s smooth voice caresses Vicki’s ear as she takes a few more steps toward the locker room. A loud clap, in complete contradictory to Gavin’s voice, echoes off the walls as they slap each other on the shoulders.
Cradling her hand against her chest, Vicki uses her shoulder to heft open the locker room door. In here the sounds of the gym are all shut out, and she leans against the door as it shuts with a soft click. Closing her eyes for a moment, she sucks in a deep inhale, holding it until her lungs burn with the need to expel. She finally blows out the bottled-up air and the mixed feelings all swirling in her head and gut.
Gathering her street clothes and small portable shower caddy from her locker, she walks to the first empty shower stall. Unlike her high school gym showers, Jones’s has spent the extra money to seek out a woman’s comforts. The doors are solid and drop to the floor instead of hanging just lower than her knee.
The showerhead sports adjustable settings, and wide benches stick out from two walls of the compartment. Stainless steel hooks are screwed in at various heights. Vicki slips her caddy on the hook that rest about shoulder-height. Shutting the door, Vicki shucks her clothing, the sweat from earlier making it almost impossible to remove her sports bra. Several cuss words fall from her mouth as she turns and twists and bangs her elbow against the wall of the stall.
Once free, she throws the offending garment to the floor and turns on the spray, letting it get hot before stepping under it. Steam begins to roll up her legs, the burning water washing away more than her sweat. The sick, slimy feeling of Dave’s hand also washes down the drain. Vicki quickly squirts soap onto her loofah and scrubs her body. While the water feels amazing to her sore muscles, she has never been one to linger in a public shower.
Vicki flips the handle to end the shower and then pats her body dry with the towel. Thoughts of Gavin twist through her brain. Not only is he sexy as fuck, but he is thoughtful. That is clear by the design of the locker room and how he wants to make people feel welcome. And by the way he rushed to her aid before she could bust up her hand a bit more by repeating her right hook. He also took the time to doctor up her hand and speak with her about what happened. It might have only been so she didn’t sue the gym for being sexually assaulted, but it seemed as if he genuinely cared about how she was feeling after such an event.
Vicki shakes her head to knock loose her current train of thought. She doesn’t have time to fantasize over the owner of her gym, or any damn man for that matter. Getting dressed in her pale blue jeans and a light gray tee, she firmly blocks Gavin from her mind.
After knotting her hair up into a messy bun on the very top of her head, she slips into her flip-flops and shoves the rest of her belongings into the locker that comes with her membership. Nerves shiver through her core and she prays she can slip through the gym without catching the attention of the very sexy owner.
A quick shove to the door and the clamor of the gym rushes into Vicki’s ears. Weights dropping, people grunting, and laughter from around the smoothie bar all collide together into a rushing water sound. Gavin appears to be in deep conversation with the couple she almost bumped into when trying to escape his earlier attentions. His sexy smile is accompanied by his rich, deep laughter. Somehow the sound wraps around her heart and squeezes tightly. With a huff, she hurries past the bar to the front door.
“Hey now!” Gavin calls across the wide space.
She has one leg already out the door but stops to throws a look over her shoulder. He swings open the counter hatch and trots up to her side. His chiseled arm slips under her shoulder to take the weight of the door from her.
“You sure you are all right?” he asks, tucking his index finger under her chin and turning her head side to side. His steady gaze burns into her eyes.
“Um, yes.” She swats at his finger to remove it from her chin. “Thank you.”
He grins at her attempt to push him away.
“I’ll walk you to your car,” he says flatly, as though he is doing her a favor. His strong jaw tilts toward the parking lot. “Come on.”
With a deep huff and a roll of her eyes, Vicki lets Gavin have his way without putting up much of a fight. Any effort she may have put into persuading him to stay at the gym instead of walking her to her car would have failed anyway. He’s far too charming and too persistent. As she walks few steps in front of him, Vicki can feel his gaze roaming her backside. A deep blush blooms over her pale cheeks and down her throat.
Her black Jeep, always parked in the same spot at the end of the lot, waits in the fading afternoon light. Yanking the door open, Vicki flops into the seat and looks up at Gavin. He tosses his arm along the top length of the open door and leans his weight against it. His T-shirt stretches over his very fit body, revealing protruding pectorals and visible lines where his abdominals are clearly defined. Vicki swallows around the cotton ball forming in her throat.
“Are you always such a gentleman?” The urge too great to resist, she licks her suddenly dry lower lip. Gavin’s smile isn’t as friendly as it had been. There is a warning hidden in this smile, and chills spiral in Vicki’s lower belly.
“A gentleman is simply a patient wolf.” His eyes run over the length of her body, but instead of the sticky feeling she got when Dave sized her up, Gavin’s appraisal makes her heart pump faster, and a slow pulse begins to thump in her clit.
“Oh,” she whispers. He leans into the all-too-confining space of the front seat to secure her seat belt.
“Drive safely, Rowdy Rousey.” His hint that she could compare to the best female UFC fighter in the world is laughable and causes Vicki to giggle. “Remember, if you aren’t back in the gym and on your regular schedule two weeks from now, I’ll drive to your house to check on you.” He pins her to the seat with a glare.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” she grumbles and pushes his hands out of the car. He takes a step back, and she pulls the door in place. She starts the engine before he can mess with her brain any further and then jerks the car from the parking space and onto the main road leading to her house.
A few miles from Jones’s Health and Wellness Center, Vicki rolls down her windows, letting the late afternoon air blast through her still-damp hair. She lets out a deep breath. Jason Aldean’s voice floats through the speakers, and she cranks up the volume. The lyrics of “Burnin’ It Down” cause her imagination to envision Gavin lying across the bed in her small apartment, his fingers curling through the strands of her hair. Balancing his weight above her smaller body as he peppers kisses down her skin.
“Fuck!” Vicki slaps the palm of her hand on the steering wheel. “Damn!” She hisses as the motion makes her swollen and cracked knuckles hurt. The last thing she needs is to daydream about that man. Quickly she punches the buttons on the radio, willing to listen to anything else so long as images of Gavin don’t accompany the lyrics.
Taylor Swift’s “Shake it Off” replaces the heat of “Burnin’ It Down,” and Vicki’s body sashays to the addicting rhythm. The road winds around curves and through the valleys that keep her small town hidden from the rest of the world.
Her eyes scan the road and the trees surrounding the two-lane road. She can’t help but think how much she loves this itty-bitty place. No stoplights for miles. People move slowly as if the world has given them its assurance that it would wait on them. Their homes are spread out so that everyone has the breathing room they desire. Not as congested as the places she lived while trying to escape this town. Growing up, she never imagined she would long to be back here. Oh, how life can prove you wrong.
By the time she reaches her driveway, the sun has just about set, its last ray stretching out from under thick clouds, desperate to stay a while longer but unable to resist the pull of time. Vicki climbs from the car, locking it as she walks away. There re
ally has never been a need to lock her vehicle way out here, but old habits die hard. Her closest neighbor is well within a mile’s walking distance from her front door.
Kane’s fierce barking thunders from behind the front door of her two-story house. Shaking her head, Vicki hurries the rest of the way to the front door. One of these days that dog was going to break down the door, but the joyous welcome makes her laugh. Her Daddy built this place just after her Mama passed away five years ago. All his blood, sweat, and tears went into this stunning log cabin. The small front porch sports a swing on which she used to curl up with a book when she would visit him. Inside, he blended beautiful modern elements to old country style and the result is magnificent.
It still breaks her heart that he didn’t get to grow old in this house. After getting the news that a brain aneurysm took his life, Vicki knew she had to come back and live here. She’d packed up everything from her tiny apartment in South Carolina, adopting a dog on the drive north to the place she grew up. As sad as moving on without her family has been on her, these last two years in this place, with Kane by her side, have been the best yet.
Vicki shoves her key into the lock and jiggles it until the lock lets go. She tries to open the door, but Kane, Vicki’s Rhodesian ridgeback, slams his powerful paws in the door, shoving her back out of the house.
“For the love of—” she huffs. “Kane, let me in the damn door!” she yells at the happy beast. He flops back a few steps, and she takes the opportunity to sneak in the tiny opening he has allowed. Her back bumps into the door as Kane jumps up at her, his big body holding her captive until she greets him properly. “Kane, you are so rude!” she grumbles while nuzzling her nose in the furry wrinkles of his heavy neck. She hugs his barrel chest tightly, fingers inching down the natural mohawk along his spine. His tongue lolls out and coats her cheek in dog saliva.
“Awwh, gross.” She giggles, shoving at his legs to put him back on all fours. “I love you too, big guy.” She wipes her cheek with the back of her hand before bending to place a tender kiss between his big brown eyes. “Let’s find dinner, shall we?”
A deep woof is her answer as he gallops into the kitchen, nails clicking, and slides on the hardwood before his hip meets the large island taking up the center of her dream kitchen. Kane’s black nose inches his stainless steel bowl over to her feet.
“So pushy!” she teases him before filling the bowl and dropping it back on to the slip-proof mat she bought him to keep crumbs and drool in a central location.
Without a second’s hesitation, Kane scarfs into his food. Bits and unchewed bites fly from his jowls. Vicki shakes her head and pats his shoulders.
“Slow it down, buddy. You’ll choke!” she warns him. She soothes her hand over his back, the distraction keeping him from continuing his hurried pace. After a few minutes, most of his dinner is planted in his gut, and she turns to open the refrigerator. The bright light inside blinks on, illuminating her choices of fixin’s for her own meal. Nothing is appealing at all. Staring at the half-empty jug of milk, a left over Tupperware of tuna, and scattering of different fruits, she can’t think of any kind of combination of these foods that would be satisfying.
A wet nose presses against the back of her thigh, nudging his way past to peer at what’s inside. Vicki smiles and shifts her weight to block him. Kane retaliates by shoving his face between her thighs and pushing her legs open. With a gasp, she falls back against his shoulders, her hands shoving his head down and back so she can regain her balance.
“Kane!” Laughter busts from her throat. “You are not a horse! You are a dog. Geez.”
She shuts the door to stop the chilly air from escaping and turns to look down at his innocent expression. He cocks his head to the side with his floppy ears trying to perk up. The look melts her heart, and she covers his face in kisses. A gurgle from her hungry stomach makes them both look down at where the noise originated.
“Right, dinner.” Opening the pantry, she grabs a box of spaghetti, dropping it on the counter before grabbing a pot and filling it with water. Vicki sets it on the eye of the stove to boil. While waiting for the stiff carbs to turn limp, she gathers the premade sauce from the fridge door. Holding the jar up, Vicki groans that only a few tablespoons of sauce remain.
A clink echoes in the empty kitchen as she sets the jar down to grab for the grated cheese. Almost all of that is gone as well. Damn, she was supposed to hit up the grocery store after the gym, but she completely forgot! Tomorrow she would have to fit a stop into her schedule. She props a hip against her counter and watches the water slowly boil around the noodles. Again, thoughts of Gavin sneak into her brain.
Before her fantasies can really take hold, Kane dashes for the living room, hackles up and his unhappy bark rolling through the house. Vicki’s heart leaps into her throat. Uneasy chills rise up at the base of her skull. She has always hated living alone—that was the biggest reason for adopting Kane. He made her feel more secure when creatures moved about the perimeter of the house throughout the night.
She slowly follows behind him to see what has him in such a frenzy. His paws pound into the glass of the window near the big sectional. Fangs out and saliva flying, he continues to beat into the glass. Digging her fingers around the leather of his collar, Vicki yanks back with all of her weight. She can barely move the dog.
“What is it? A raccoon again?” She heaves back again to protect her windowpanes. Kane pulls back with all his might, lurching them forward. Planting her feet for better balance, she hauls the dog to the couch. Kane tries to escape by jumping on the chaise section of the couch. Taking the chance to look out the window while he is busy, Vicki squints into the darkness. A small flash flicks between the trees lining the driveway. Not a raccoon.
Letting go of Kane, she runs to the front door, snicking the deadbolt into place and shutting off the inside light. She peers through the decorative glass in the front door. Someone is outside! The light is gone, but the lingering feeling in her gut is very strong.
The sound of water hitting the stove’s eye and sizzling as it evaporates jerks her attention back to the kitchen. Aw, damn! The stupid spaghetti was boiling over. She steals one last look out the window. Everything looks normal, but nothing feels right.
No one would have any reason to be this far down her road. There are a total of six houses on her road, hers being the second to the end, and Joe’s house is a mile farther till you reach the turnaround. Vicki hadn’t heard Joe’s souped-up pickup truck race down the dirt road since she had been home. Maybe he’d sped by without her or Kane knowing?
Anxiety spreads out over her limbs as she hurries into the kitchen and shuts off the stove. The storm in the pot settles almost immediately. She shifts the contents to a colander, the water splashing in the big farmhouse sink. Drops splatter against her forearm and she squeaks, dropping the colander. Helplessly, she watches as noodles tumble out and spill into the garbage disposal. She saves what she can before the remaining noodles touch the side of the sink and she dumps the pasta back into the still-hot pot. Scraping out her tiny bit of sauce and cheese, she angrily mixes it together.
She looks down at her feet, but Kane isn’t there. The beast would never miss a chance that she may spill something and always lies under her feet while she cooks. Where is he?
“Kane?” She looks around her shoulders and through the open layout of the house. Kane is still on the couch. Half of his large self is hanging over the chaise’s armrest. His nose is plastered to the glass. Small puffs of fog cover the area around his snout.
“What’s out there, buddy?” Vicki asks, abandoning her meal to comfort the dog. She runs her hand down his side and he turns those big, golden eyes on her. Kane is clumsy and rude but he is a very smart dog. He leans against her hand, but his gaze goes back to what lies beyond the window, scanning every tree.
Gathering her wits, Vicki walks to the front door. Opening it, she stands aside as Kane scrambles off the chaise and out the door. Now
that the sun has disappeared, the air holds a bite. The chill whirls around her, making her fold her arms around her chest and hug her body tight. Kane prowls the sides of the driveway, up along the small front porch and then back behind the house.
After a few minutes, she calls to Kane. Normally when he hunts for small things around the property he always returns when she calls. Yet there is neither sight nor sound of her beast.
“Come on, Kane! It’s getting cold!” Leaving the door open, she steps to the edge of the front steps. Peering out, searching for a darker shadow in the darkness that will be Kane. A sharp yip pierces the air as well as Vicki’s heart. She runs down the three steps from the porch to the ground and hurries around the house. Her fear of a stranger is gone, only thoughts of Kane fill her head.
“Kane? Baby? Where are you, boy? You’re scaring me!”
Just as Vicki is rounding the far side of her house, Kane hobbles up to her side. Vicki drops to the ground, feeling over Kane’s body for any signs of injury. He is panting heavily and licks his lips over and over. Nothing appears to be out of place, no nicks or scrapes that she can find.
“Come on, stupid.” She sighs, holding his collar tight as she leads him back into the house. She shuts and locks the door behind them and watches as Kane walks slowly to his water bowl. His tongue gathers the water like he hasn’t had a drink in days. He drinks until the bowl is dry. Worry pools in her gut as she refills his water and then hugs him tight.
Someone or something had been outside. Kane might have scared it off for now, but what if it came back?
CHAPTER FOUR
It’s been a long day for Gavin, and it is about to get longer. A few hours after Victoria left him standing in the parking lot and he watched her drive away, the fire department called. One of the regulars called out sick, and they asked Gavin to fill in for the night shift. Normally, he only volunteers every other weekend at the station. Because it’s usually slow in his small town, the eight-hour shift can feel like a twenty-four hour one.
