by Jayce Carter
Gray had always been the free sort, the one to leave home the day he turned eighteen, to rebel against every single limitation put him on. The moment he’d invited any girl into his house, when she’d even considered trying to change a thing, he’d been done. It had made him feel trapped, tied down in a way he swore would never happen to him.
Cindy huffed softly. “Do you remember that stray dog you found in the backyard of that little rental when you were ten? The thing was the meanest mongrel ever.”
Gray chuckled at the memory of the pit-mix he’d named Harley. It had been skinny and all fangs. Gray’s mom had wanted to call animal control to come get him, but Gray had been determined.
He’d spent hours outside every day with treats, coaxing the dog closer each time. It would come under the fence from the wooded area behind the property, lured in by the food and Gray’s determination.
He’d gotten nipped a time or two, especially the first time he’d tried to put a collar on the dog. Eventually, Gray’s efforts had won out, and Harley had settled into a nice easy life.
As a kid, that had seemed a perfect solution. As a man afraid of being chained and domesticated, the reminder of Harley’s fate only had him digging in his heels. “Yeah, I remember that dog. Went from lone wolf to house pet.”
Cindy gave him a patronizing look. “He went from starving on the streets to a happy, safe life.”
“Sometimes things ain’t worth the price.”
Cindy rose, the slow motions of a woman who wasn’t as young as she once had been. Gray was up faster, reaching out to help her.
Cindy accepted the hand, passing off the beer after one more drink.
Gray walked her out, thanking her for stopping in and checking on any tasks that needed his attention. When they reached her car, her arm tucked into the crook of his, she turned toward him then looked up into his eyes.
Those eyes of hers could make a grown man apologize instantly, even when he had no damned idea what he’d done wrong.
“Change isn’t a bad thing, Gray. Everything changes until it’s gone. You can fight it all you want, but all that’ll happen is you’ll miss out.”
* * * *
There has to be another option.
No matter how many times Tabby told herself that, nothing else came to her. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was her fear, but she couldn’t come up with a single plan that didn’t involve asking for help from her neighbor.
Her neighbor who hadn’t tried to talk to her since their almost-kiss in her place after he’d fixed her power a week before.
And Tabby had pretended it didn’t bother her. She’d let herself act as if it were for the best and she was grateful he’d finally seen reason.
In fact, she was so good at pretending that, she’d settled back into her happy rut where she wouldn’t run into him again.
Until Becky had called her ten minutes ago.
As usual, Becky came first, and what her sister needed mattered more than Tabby’s uncertain feelings.
Before she could talk herself out of it, Tabby knocked on Gray’s door. His motorcycle sat out front, so she knew he was home. It took a moment for the door to open, and if she hadn’t been so rushed, she’d have taken the time to properly ogle his bare, tattooed chest. The thing was a work of art that deserved study.
Except, again, Becky mattered more.
“Well, well—” He was mid casual, smug greeting when Tabby interrupted him.
“I need your help.”
Was it her tone that clued him in that everything might not be fine? He dropped his arm from the door frame, which said he’d been posing on purpose, the arrogant bastard. “What’s wrong?”
Tabby opened her mouth to explain, but no words came.
She didn’t want to explain. Some things she had no problem sharing with anyone, but others were private. He’d figure it out if he helped her, but she didn’t want to air any of her dirty laundry if she didn’t need to.
As if he read the hesitation on her face, he only nodded. “Yeah, I’ll help.”
Relief swamped her, not only at his help but at the fact she didn’t have to explain, first. She followed him into his place where he tugged on a shirt then took his leather jacket from the closet by the door. She’d seen him in it before, knew that extra edge of danger it gave him, and right then?
That was exactly what she needed from him.
He nodded toward his bike, but that was an absolute not a chance. Tabby had once driven by an accident involving a motorcycle and it had scarred her for life.
Instead, she had him get into her sedan and, boy, did he not fit. Her cute white car was suitable for young girls and maybe frat boys. Gray’s six-foot-tall, muscular and tattooed body stuck out like the obvious answer of what didn’t belong.
Not that he complained.
“So, any chance you’ll clue me in on what we’re doing?” He set his elbow on the center console, the request nice enough that Tabby gave him an answer.
At least, somewhat of an answer.
“I just need you to look intimidating.”
He let out a soft laugh. “Should have let me bring the bike, then.”
“There’s no way I’m getting on the back of that thing. They’re death traps.”
“Been riding since I turned sixteen and I ain’t died yet.”
“Yet being the important word there?”
He snorted. “It’s always yet. I’ve known people who ride their whole lives without a problem and I knew a man who slipped on a patch of ice while walking and cracked his skull open. It’s a crapshoot, Tabby.”
“You’re still calling me Tabby?”
“You ain’t as uptight as you act.”
“Oh, trust me, I am.” Hadn’t she dealt with enough people through her life who assumed so? People who were quick to point what a stick-in-the-mud she was. Why was it the one person she really wanted to see her that way refused to believe it?
He shook his head and tapped his fingers. “Nope. I mean, yeah, you’re rigid and need to let loose a bit, but I remember that kiss you gave me. You want to have fun—you just don’t know how.”
“You sound like a horny teenage boy trying to talk a girl into sleeping with him. ‘Oh, baby, you’re really sexy, you just need someone to show you how to get there. You just need my help so you can let loose and have some real fun.’” Her words dripped with venom as she parroted the exact words her one and only attempt at sex had used on her.
She’d believed him, too. For a moment, she’d thought he’d be the answer to her problems, that he’d get her naked and by some miracle, she’d suddenly be better. She’d be more fun, less nervous, more acceptable.
That hadn’t happened. Instead, he’d taken the chance to tell everyone what a frigid, lazy lay she’d been and never called her again.
“That the line whoever you’ve got so much hatred for used on you?” He didn’t ask like a win, like he enjoyed putting her down. Instead, it was a soft curiosity, as if maybe that would help him understand her.
“Yeah,” Tabby admitted quietly, not sure why she’d even told him. She’d never told anyone about that night. Not that people didn’t know. “And all that happened was I figured out men lie and often don’t deliver what they promise.”
A heavy weight settled on her thigh, and Tabby jumped to find Gray’s hand there, the touch not sexual and yet sending an uncomfortable spark through her body.
“I’m not some horny teenager looking for an easy lay. And trust me, I can deliver exactly what I promise.”
And for the first time, Tabby believed him, which scared her all the more.
Gray stretched his back when he got out of the car. It wasn’t built for a man his size, but he’d seen on her face that there wasn’t a shot in hell she’d be getting on his motorcycle.
What a shame. I’d love to feel her digging her hands in as she holds on.
There was a sense of freedom to his bike that nothing else in his life could quite replicate. When the win
d moved past him, even with his helmet on, it was as though nothing held him back, nothing trapped him.
A feeling like that might do the girl some good, especially after her comments in the car.
He’d suspected she’d been hurt before, and it sounded like he’d been right. Some ham-handed fucker had put the poor girl off sex, and he’d love a few minutes alone with whoever had done it.
Still, the flush she’d gotten when he’d said he could deliver what he promised? It felt like the best win—like a split second of her believing that maybe, just maybe, he’d be worth the risk.
Why he cared, he wasn’t sure. Haylee had called him how many times? She was only a quick text message away and she’d show, naked and already wet, and yet he just hadn’t been able to return the call.
She knew the deal, knew he didn’t want anything long term, yet she was always pushing for it, always looking for a way to trap him into something he’d made clear wasn’t for him. So why was he ignoring her while lusting after a girl who didn’t seem to want to be caught?
He felt like a dog chasing a car. What the hell would he do if he caught her?
That was a worry for another time, so Gray followed Tabby, to her left and half a step behind her. If she’d clued him in a little more, he’d have known what he was in for. Was this a case where a few more bodies would be useful?
If there was one thing he knew, it was folks who looked like he did were the sort who in a group wouldn’t be messed with.
But Gray had never had the sense to be afraid of much, and he doubted Tabby was the sort to know anyone who he needed to be worried about. He’d probably walk in and find some scrawny book nerd who would faint at one hard look from him.
Which he didn’t mind, because the idea of playing hero for her sounded damn good.
The townhouse in front of them looked like the ones to the left and right, and a car he often saw parked in front of Tabby’s place sat outside.
“Is this Becky’s place?”
Tabby’s lips tightened, but she nodded.
Who the hell was he supposed to scare at her sister’s place?
The set of Tabby’s jaw said she wouldn’t answer, so he stayed quiet as Tabby pushed fully open the ajar door. She went into the living room of the small townhouse, looking carefully around.
There was hesitation, unease, but absolute certainty that she’d keep going. The girl showed a lot of spine right then. Whatever she expected to find, clearly she didn’t think it would be pleasant. A strange tightness in his chest grew, a sense of being humbled by her asking for his help. Even if it was because she had no choice, he still damn well appreciated it.
Tabby didn’t call out for her sister. It struck him as odd until a crash from upstairs wiped away any of the questions.
Tabby went first, rushing up the stairs toward the noise and a difficult-to-make-out male voice.
At the top of the stairs was a large landing and a few doors. It wasn’t hard to guess the door in question because one sat closed—probably locked—and outside it stood a tall man who wavered on his feet. He was in his late fifties, maybe, with hair that was pushed to the side in a way that implied he’d tried to fix it but probably kept combing his fingers through it.
Waves of agitation rolled from him, spilling into the corridor. Gray had dealt with enough junkies to know one when he saw one.
“Go home,” Tabby said.
The man turned toward her, and so much anger filled his face that Gray was damn glad he was there.
“I’m here to talk to Rebecca. This isn’t your business.”
“You aren’t allowed here, Dad.”
Dad? Well, that explained a few things, didn’t it? Once she’d said it, he could see some resemblance. Same eyes.
Where the man had the belligerent posture of someone far too sure of his own importance, Tabby stood like a woman who might get blown over with a strong breeze.
Or, at least, that was how it seemed at first.
The more Gray got a look at her, the more he realized how deceptive her stance was. He was used to the folks he knew, the ones who would throw themselves into a fight without a second thought, for fun if nothing else. Instead, Tabby had dug in, like a weed with roots so deep it couldn’t be pulled out. She didn’t want to be there, but she wouldn’t be moved.
“That’s my kid. You don’t tell me where to be. She wants me gone, all I need is a few hundred. You kids owe that much.”
“Owe you?” Tabby did that sputtering thing that Gray normally found cute. Instead, it broke his heart to see her struggle to find words to deal with a man Gray couldn’t imagine growing up with. “We don’t owe you anything. You were hardly ever around.”
“Someone had to make money after your mom died. You think I should have stayed home and coddled you both, so we got evicted and lived on the streets?”
“I paid the rent!” Tabby took a step forward, making her look even smaller compared to the angry and clearly high man. “You were always out doing god only knows what, but it wasn’t making money for us. I got Becky up, got her to school, worked whatever side job I could to scrape together enough to keep a roof over our heads. Don’t you dare pretend you were ever doing anything for us.”
The man squared his shoulders, a stance Gray had seen so many times and knew too well. It was the look of a man who had finished talking with his lips and planned to let his knuckles finish the conversation.
Which was so not about to happen.
Gray stepped forward so he was just behind Tabby, the point clear. Tabby’s father might not mind tangling with her, but Gray doubted a man like that would ever risk an altercation with him.
Sure enough, the wind was pulled from the man’s sails and his shoulders sagged. The snarl didn’t fall from his lips. “A hundred bucks, Tabby. Give me that, and I’ll go.”
Tabby stood tall and didn’t let her gaze drop an inch. She gave the man nothing. “Get out. If I call your parole officer, and you’re caught breaking and entering, we both know it won’t go well for you.”
Is that a bluff? Tabby seemed too soft-hearted to actually call the cops on her father—not that Gray would have blamed her a bit if she did—but he suspected if there was one button that could be pushed on her, it was probably her sister.
The man must have come to the same conclusion because he wilted. He didn’t give in entirely, and muttered curses fell from his lips.
A few of the things Gray caught were about enough for him to sucker-punch the asshole, but he kept his calm. He understood how tense family issues were, and the last thing he wanted was to make this shit harder for Tabby.
When the man stormed past, Gray followed him to the front door. The lock was broken, which prompted a quick text to his buddy to get it fixed.
Least I can do.
When he ascended the stairs again, Gray found Becky in tears, arms wrapped around Tabby who consoled her as if the entire ordeal hadn’t been hard on her at all.
And suddenly, Gray was pretty sure he understood Tabby a hell of a lot better.
* * * *
Tabby hesitated at Gray’s door.
Becky was sleeping soundly in Tabby’s spare room. It would ease them both for the night, knowing Becky was safe.
Facing off against her father was something Tabby never enjoyed doing, but it had always hit Becky harder. Then again, their father, Peter, had gone to Becky because he knew he’d get nothing from Tabby. Becky had always been the easier target.
Gray had driven them home so Tabby could sit in the backseat with Becky, and he hadn’t said a word about any of it. His friend had come over, fixed the damage to the door and replaced the lock, much to Becky’s relief. The man hadn’t accepted a dime in payment either, and now Becky wouldn’t have to worry about pissing off her roommate or fear that Peter might come back. The new lock was stronger, and he’d even reinforced the doorframe to help prevent any future attempts to kick it in.
It was all a weight off Tabby’s mind. All she’d e
ver wanted was to take care of her sister, had done so for so long, yet it seemed she never quite did a good-enough job.
The door opened, and Tabby jumped backward.
Gray’s face was kind, and his smile lacked the snark she’d grown used to. “You’ve been standing on this porch for fifteen minutes.”
“I’m still deciding exactly how bad of an idea it is.”
“Any decisions?”
She sighed softly, tucking her thumbs into the pockets of her jeans. “A really bad one.”
“Well, I know a thing or two about those. You could come on in and I could give you a little guidance.”
The offer was such a flimsy come-on line, yet the exhaustion from the day meant Tabby couldn’t find the energy to roll her eyes at it.
Instead, she entered his house against every bit of good judgment she had. That they didn’t fit, that he’d never really want her—none of it seemed all that important in the dim glow of his porch after the day she’d had. She’d always had to take care of Becky, had to be the strong one. The idea of being able to let that go with Gray was too tempting.
On the living room table sat a coffee mug with steam dancing from the top. Gray nodded at it as he closed the front door. “That’s for you. Had plenty of time to make it while you argued with yourself out front.”
Tabby ignored the teasing as she took a spot on the couch then picked up the drink. “I figured all you’d have was beer.”
Gray laughed as he sat beside her, the couch suddenly feeling much smaller than it had moments ago. “I’m not a frat boy anymore. Can’t live off only beer. In fact, believe it or not, I actually have vegetables in there, too.”
She didn’t bother to hide the chuckle at his snark, no matter how dangerous. If he stopped being the scary-looking bad boy next door, she might lose her ability to ignore him. Then what would happen?
She’d end up heartbroken. No thanks.
“How’s Becky?”
“Sleeping.”
He nodded, his arm slung over the back of the couch. “She going to be safe going back to that place?”
At first sip, Tabby frowned. Chamomile tea? Just like she drank in the mornings. She chalked it up to a coincidence. “He won’t come back right away. The last thing he wants is to end up in jail again. Eventually the temptation to scam some money will be good enough for him to risk it, but not for a while.”
