by Jaycee Ford
Knowing I had to get the painful moving process over with, I dropped my laptop bag on a little bistro table tucked in the corner of the room. I walked over to my suitcase and lugged it on top of the bed. I unzipped the bag much slower than I should have, reluctant to begin my existence as a runaway so far from the life I had planned. I could survive this for a semester or two. There would be more opportunities for dream jobs in Charlotte.
I shook my head and squared my shoulders. I started unpacking my belongings, which consisted of only clothes and a few framed photographs of my parents and Katherine. After emptying the over-sized suitcase, I placed the pictures around the suite, trying (and failing) to make it feel like home.
After adjusting a frame on the dresser, I anchored another slightly in front of it. My smile in the picture was one of hope and optimism as Katherine and I wore our caps and gowns with pride. When we graduated high school, we believed nothing could stop us. I never dreamed that years later a man could make me crumble to my knees.
A shiver ran up my spine as the memory of his hands all over me, pressing me against a wall, vomited up from my brain. His ominous laugh echoed in my ear. I always get what I want. I closed my eyes and exhaled a deep breath, reassuring myself that I was far enough away, having left without telling anyone where I was going. Steadying myself with the task at hand, I grabbed another frame. A gasp escaped me when a picture of the man whom I had ran away from, burned my eyes. Shaking, I chucked the frame encasing the devil across the room. The glass shattered against the floor, and I clenched my chest as I sank down to the bed, straining for breath, my heart racing.
While I tried to retrieve the sense of calm I had earlier, a repetitive drip echoed throughout the room, a quiet hammering in my ears that reinforced the pounding in my chest. I pushed up from the bed and walked over to the bathroom, hoping there would be a way to quiet the annoyance. As I eased open the door, the unpleasant sound of dripping water vanished when my attention was diverted. White claw feet held up a huge, high back tub, beckoning me to sink down into it full of bubbles. A smile crawled up my face until the thought of showers and Ryan seeped back into my brain, my grin faltering.
I walked back to the bed and grabbed my bag of toiletries, my phone with ear buds, and a robe, deciding that I deserved one final cleansing of my former life. After stripping out of my clothes, I sat on the side of the tub running my fingers through the stream of water, and as it turned warm, I began to pour in the bubble bath, watching the bubbles foam up. I readied my phone with music while the water continued to rise. When the tub became full, I turned off the water and eased myself into the rolling hills of suds, determined that this would be the last time I ever felt weak over that man, or any man. My phone rang his tune and I pressed decline for the hundredth time. He always got what he wanted, or so he said.
The heartbreaking music played softly in my ears, and I closed my eyes before they burned with tears. My chest knotted with a sob as I tried to keep it together. I never expected this of my life. I would forever only be Ms. Jordan Hawthorne. The only thing I could hope for was to let sleep consume me and awaken better than before.
I slid down into the hot, sudsy water and let my eyes close. The sobs rolled out, deep and slow, like a thunderstorm churning up out of the depths of my soul. Eventually the sobbing slowed to just tears and the occasional hiccup, and I began to relax into the sound of the music playing through my ear buds. Suddenly a loud thump echoed over the music purring in my ear. I cracked my swollen eyes, slowly at first. My blurry vision focused on a figure standing in front of me. My heart lurched with the thought of Ryan finding me until the outline of broad muscles hiding under a T-shirt assured me it wasn’t him. Piercing blue eyes peered from underneath the bill of a rugged cap. This was no dream. There was a strange man in my bathroom… and I was naked.
“Oh, my God,” I said, freezing in place in the water.
“I’m sorry.”
“Oh, my God! Get out!” I screamed, leaning up to cover up my chest.
“I’m—I’m sorry, ma’am,” he stuttered without moving his eyes from mine.
“Move it, pervert!” I yelled while reaching for my robe.
My eyes clicked with his again, the breath catching in my throat. He was like nothing I had ever seen. The corners of his mouth curved into the slightest smile as if he could almost hear my thoughts. He slowly walked backward out of the bathroom, cowboy boots clicking on the hardwood floor as his stare held my eyes. He turned away, vanishing from my sight. The sound of the door closing shut confirmed his departure.
Those eyes. There was something about those eyes that made me crave more.
“Oh, my God, what just happened?” My eyes remained bugged in shock, but my body still tingled from his stare.
“Oh, my God, this water’s freezing!” I jumped out of the ice bath and pulled the robe around me tight. I quickly vacated the bathroom and my gaze shifted to the closed door of the suite. Mortification claimed me as I plopped on the bed, burying my face inside of my hands, and laid back onto the pillows. Questions regarding his identity ran through my head, leaving me to wonder. Why did a sexy country boy break into my room?
AFTER A LONG morning taming the farm, I closed up the weathered barn door, and as my cowboy boots crunched over mulch and gravel, I walked back toward the old farm house to get out of the summer heat. With Hampton trotting along by my side, I stooped down and picked up a stick, chucking it toward my two-story farm house, and the chocolate lab sprinted for it. By the time I caught up with him, my phone rang. I stopped as I stared at the front porch, longing to lounge in my rocking chair while I sipped from a Mason jar filled with sweet tea. I blew out a breath and answered, “Tom McCloud.”
“Tommy! I know your grandmother taught you to answer the phone better than that!” The voice of my only living blood relative rang in my ears and I cringed. Thanks to my busy schedule, I had neglected her, my uncle, and The Inn.
My best friend, Lance, had taken over the task of occupying Hampton. As I turned away from them and the house, I stared across the rolling foothills that had always given me such a sense of calm, but they weren’t offering it today. I pulled off my cap and wiped the sweat from my forehead, steeling myself for the conversation to come. “Aunt Ethel, I’m sorry. It’s already been a long day.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Listen,” she said, cutting off my apology. “The guest checked into room six already and the faucet is still leaking.”
As the strain of work weighed down on me, I lifted off my hat again and scratched my head. “Aunt Et, I’m sorry. We had some runaway cattle to deal with this morning, and a section of the barbed wire fence needed to be replaced. I’ll get Hampton and we’ll head your way now.”
“Thanks, Tommy. See you in a bit.” She rushed off the phone without any further conversation. Even though running the farm kept me busy, I always felt responsible for helping out my aunt and uncle. They were all I had left.
As I shoved the phone back into my pocket, I abandoned my plans of going to the house and headed to the tool shed alongside the barn instead. With my tool bag in hand, I strode to my truck and whistled for Hampton. On command, the dog left the game of catch with Lance and darted toward me, hopping inside the truck when I opened the door. Lance followed Hampton as I tossed the bag onto the bed of the truck. He was an all-hat-no-cattle kind of man. He looked like a cowboy and walked like a cowboy, but he ain’t a cowboy.
"So, are we going to Dixie's tonight?" Lance asked as he hung his thumbs from loops of his belt.
“I reckon,” I answered, digging for the keys to my truck in my jean pockets.
“Ya think Angela will be there?” His shit eating grin stretched from ear to ear.
I rolled my eyes.
“She’s a leech. Don’t you usually find leeches in murky waters?”
“And you know what they say about leeches?”
I shook my head at the thought of him and Angela Butler, better known as the thorn in my side fr
om a night of drunken foolishness.
“I know what they say about leeches. I’m the one who told you about leeches.”
“And I’m so glad you did!” He punched me on the shoulder.
I stared at the spot he hit and then back at him as he tried to contain his laughter. I shook my head again as I turned away.
“Go look around the fence line so we don’t have to do this again tomorrow. Paul’s taking care of the area in the back.” I hopped into my grandfather’s old pickup and settled next to Hampton. I grabbed the handle to close the door.
“You got it, boss.” He smirked.
I looked over at him with my hand still clutching the handle.
“Lance.”
“What’s up… boss?” he replied, egging me on with a smug face. I cocked my brow out of annoyance.
“Cut the crap.” I slammed the door, hanging my elbow outside of the open window, and started the truck.
“Whatever you say, boss,” he hollered and then turned away to do the job as requested.
I revved the engine and patted Hampton’s back. He scooted away from me and poked his head out of the passenger side window. I pulled out of the farm onto the windy roads of the countryside. The sun flickered between the trees that lined the roadsides. The heat beat down on the asphalt, but I swore a hint of fall rode on the breeze. It was probably wishful thinking. It was still August, and I lived in the South. I eased on the brakes at a signal light and turned right, hitting the limits of our small country town. As I drove down Main Street on the way to The Inn, I passed the hardware store and noticed the crew setting up for the End of Summer Festival in Olde Town.
“Well, shit.” I grabbed my cell and flipped it open to call Paul. I was too damn busy to do it all.
“Paul Harris.”
“Hey, Paul. I forgot about helping with the festival setup. Can you go get us started on Main Street, and I’ll come after I help Aunt Et at The Inn? Just have Lance finish up.”
“Yeah, no problem. We’ll grab a beer afterward.”
“Sounds good. Thanks.” I flipped my phone shut, ending the call.
My truck slowed as it pulled alongside the old familiar inn, the gravel rocks of the driveway popping underneath the tires. I got out of the truck and grabbed the bag out of the back; Hampton trotted along, following me to the front door. I had walked up those steps thousands of times. The Inn was the closest thing to home besides my farm, and the only family I had lived there. When I opened the door, the chimes announced my entrance. I could hear Uncle Al singing from the kitchen, and the lingering scent of apple pie and cinnamon welcomed me as it did every time I crossed the threshold. Glancing around for Aunt Et, I walked up to the counter, where I found a note instead of the woman.
Tommy,
I tried to call Ms. Hawthorne, the guest in six, and knocked on the door, but she didn’t answer. She must be out. Your uncle has a few pies to bring back to Lance and Paul. Some treats for Hampton are also in the kitchen with the pies. I ran to the market. If you need your uncle, you know where to find him.
Love, Aunt Et
With my tool bag in hand, I turned around and found Hampton lying on his blanket in the corner near the fireplace, gnawing on one of his many rawhide bones. As I began the climb up the stairs, I said, “Good boy.”
Taking two steps at a time, I made it up to the third floor, turned down the hall, and stood in front of room six.
"Maintenance." I knocked as I stood in front of room six. I held the bag in front of me as the door to the suite next door closed. I nodded at the older couple, pulling down the bill of my hat. As they started down the stairs, I stood still, waiting for a response from room six. When I didn’t hear anything, I knocked a second time and repeated the call for maintenance. I dug out my set of keys as I listened another minute for any movement. When I still didn’t get a response, I assumed the guest was out. I pushed in the master key, unlocking the door, and walked into the shady room, shutting the door behind me.
A mass of clothes covered the bed with half-unpacked bags thrown on top. I glanced at the mound and at a few personal items the guest had already placed inside the room. There was an awful lot of clothing and necessities for someone just passing through our small town. The note did read Ms. Maybe there would be fresh meat at Dixie’s tonight. Lance could use any excuse to get away from the leech. The loud drip of the plumbing problem got my attention away from the bed, and I turned back toward the bathroom. I dug through my bag of tools, checking that I had all I could possibly need, and followed the sound of the leak to the bathroom door. I nudged the slightly opened door with my elbow. I was still rummaging in my bag as it swung open, but when I looked up, what I saw took the breath away from me.
Only two words formed in my head: beautiful and naked.
The most striking goddess I had ever laid eyes on lay in a tub, holding the remnants of bubbles. Her closed eyes were swollen, a sad commentary on her gorgeous face. Has she been crying? Then I eyed a pair of incredible, long legs peeking out from the water and drawing my gaze to two of the most luscious nipples pebbling from the cool of the air conditioner. My body immediately stood at attention. My mouth hung open like a damn fool as my bag of tools fell to the floor with a loud thump.
Her eyes popped open. A gasp escaped her parted lips, and my gaze flew up from the glorious view of her chest to her compelling eyes. The most beautiful, blue-eyed bombshell and I couldn’t move. I stood in awe, staring into those mesmerizing eyes and trying not to linger on that amazingly wet body, but my gaze wanted to wander. Curves like hers deserved to be lingered on.
“Oh, my God.” The words slipped past her soft pink lips.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t tear myself away from the plumpness of her mouth. Her lips parted as she panted a nervous breath, but I still couldn’t move.
“Oh, my God! Get out!” She sat up, pulling out her ear buds and covering her chest with her naked arms.
“I’m—I’m sorry, ma’am,” I babbled like an idiot.
“Move it, pervert!” she fumed, eying me intently, but a sparkle in her eyes had me wondering. What intent would that be, exactly?
I took the smallest of steps steadily backward and out of the bathroom, trying not to miss the view. A smile crept across my face as I maintained eye contact. Her chest rose and fell rapidly with the heat pulsating between the two of us. There was the slightest hint of an invitation in her eyes, and for the briefest second, my heart stopped as hope surged through me. This would not be the last time I would see her. It couldn’t be. With that final plea, my smile threatened to glide further up my cheeks, so I unwillingly retreated and lost sight of her.
Still stinging, I walked out of her room, shutting the door behind me. My body slumped against the closed door, and I continued to stand in absolute awe unable to calm my now racing heart. Sure, I had seen naked women before. That was nothing new. But this one… something was different about her, and she made something be different about me. Inside me. What the Hell? As I shook my head in disbelief, the stupid smile spread across my face again, and I thanked God for that damn leaky faucet.
MY EYES FLICKERED open to find a muscular, sweaty cowboy standing in the doorway to the bathroom. Cowboy boots, tight-fitted jeans, and a gray v-neck shirt hugged the broadest chest I had ever seen. I yearned to run my hands over the muscles that hid beneath that shirt, stretching the fabric taut. I thought for sure I was dreaming… until he slowly walked toward me.
With each step, my heart thumped as his blue eyes bore into mine. I scooted up slowly, covering myself with the warm bubbles that danced around me. I tried to speak, but I couldn’t manage to make a sound. Being around someone so unbelievably sexy rendered me completely speechless. When he reached the edge of the tub, the nameless cowboy took off his hat and slowly peeled off his sweat-soaked shirt. Not once did his eyes leave mine. He turned slightly and sat on the edge of the porcelain, giving me a full view of the muscles of his arm
s and back.
The need to touch him was overwhelming. I lifted my hand out of the bubbles and grazed my fingertips slowly down his biceps, leaving a trail of dampness and suds.His chest heaved with anticipation. My fingers glided down to his forearm, lifting his hand away from the edge of the tub. He took control of his own movements and caressed my cheek with his fingertips. His eyes filled with need as his fingers drifted down my neck and across my chest, causing my nipples to pebble. I dropped my hand back into the water, allowing him to linger across my body.
My eyes never broke from his stare. Not even a blink. His fingers traveled down my stomach. My breath hitched. A smile played on his lips as his fingers glided under the water, caressing me gently. The instant contact caused me to tense and my hands balled into fists, having nothing to grab on to. Flicking with slow, yet steady timing, I began to buck against his hand. His expression turned lustful as his finger pushed gently inside. A silent moan escaped me, and I blinked, feeling the beginnings of ecstasy. His agile movements became more rapid, and I rode his finger, focused on release. He could feel me tense and slid a second finger inside. I gasped at my dire need to have more of him inside of me. Blinking again, I found those nameless eyes memorizing mine. Warmth pooled in the pit of my stomach, and a panting breath slipped passed my lips, causing him to move his hand even faster. Nearing the brink, I closed my eyes, feeling the imminent release.
My eyes shot open as my breath turned into pants. I glanced around the unfamiliar surroundings and realized that I was in the country, remembering that I had left the city. A drip echoed from the bathroom and as I sat up, my head filled with the memories of my morning bath. I peered over my shoulder into the bathroom and I noticed a bag of tools lying open on the floor. I eyed it with determination and scooted out of bed. Holding my robe securely closed, I walked over to the bag, picked it up, and set it on the counter. My hands rested on my hips while I looked inside, and it was filled with what appeared to be tools. The bag, embroidered with the initials T.E.M., included no other identification of its owner. Embarrassment crept over me with the realization that he was here to take care of the leaky faucet, which I thought was supposed to be fixed tomorrow. Even through the embarrassment, though, I kept seeing those piercing blue eyes stare at me.
