BIG MAN'S CONTRACT (A Bad Boy Second Chance Romance)

by Penny Wylder

  “What the hell have you been eating?” I ask him.

  He gives me a look, something like pride, but also like disgust. He really doesn’t like me, and I don’t like that look he’s giving me, so I turn back to the door. There’s a bit of damage but nothing too expensive and nothing I can’t fix on my own. It’s a far better alternative than breaking a window.

  Walking into the bar, I go straight to the cupboard where my dad kept the spare key. It’s still there. Everything is just as I remember it. No surprise there. The only thing that surprises me is how good of shape it’s in. By now I figured raccoons or teenagers or squatters would have wrecked the place. Looking around it doesn’t seem like anything has been touched. I guess that’s one good thing about a small town in the middle of nowhere. People tend to have just a little more respect for others’ things than they do in the city.

  I take the key and decide to check if the door is ruined or if it’s just cosmetic damage. I use the key to unlock the door. It shuts and opens with ease. It’s just cosmetic, but I realize that the kind of repair it’s going to take will require tools and skills that I don’t have. I’m not exactly Bob the Builder. My only home improvement knowledge comes from YouTube tutorials that are made in fast forward and rarely come with commentary.

  Madden sighs. I ignore him and start to make a list of all the things I’m going to have to do to make this place shine the way I remember when I was little. It’s a lot. More than I imagined it would be but I have a plan and plans give me confidence and determination. They give me a place to start when things start to feel overwhelming the way they are starting to right now.

  It’s hot out. I’m starting to sweat, and these tight jeans hugging my skin are not helping matters.

  “You’re wasting your time trying to fix this place up,” Madden says.

  “If you’re going to bust my balls, please feel free to leave.”

  I pull out the yellow pages from behind the bar. They are ancient, but since nothing in this town has changed much, I imagine the numbers haven’t either.

  “You don’t get it yet,” he says.

  I answer him with a grumble and circle some numbers. I check to see if there’s a ring tone from the bar phone on the back wall. There is. I then call each number. Each call goes unanswered. What the hell? It’s the middle of the work week. Why isn’t anyone answering their phones … unless they see the number to the bar on the caller ID and are choosing not to answer. But why? Could it have something to do with why the locksmith didn’t want to help me?

  Maybe there’s something wrong with the landline. I try the same numbers with my cellphone. There are answers, but as soon as I tell them my name and why I’m calling, they immediately hang up. I stare at my phone screen, my mouth hanging open in frustration and confusion.

  “What the hell is going on?” I ask Madden when I see his knowing look. “Why is everyone avoiding me? What happened?”

  “You must have forgotten how long the memories of the people around here are. That’s what living in LA will do to you.”

  “What do you mean?” I have no idea what he’s getting at.

  “All those kids you used to pick on in high school are running this town now. Their parents are either retiring or managing from afar. Your reputation left you no allies here,” he says the last part a little smugly, which I find increasingly annoying and show him as much with my glare.

  It doesn’t make sense. That was a long time ago. We were dumb kids in high school. I know I was a mean girl and a giant pain in the ass, but I don’t remember treating everyone like shit. But regardless, whatever their reasons, it’s clear that the townspeople are intentionally ignoring me.

  “Don’t look so glum,” Madden says with a sneaky smile that makes me wary. “You still have one option.”

  I watch him, trying to read his mind. Whatever he has going on in that beautiful head of his can’t be good for me. He leans over the bar, his face only inches from mine. I stare into his smoldering eyes, trying not to get lost in them. Now is not the time to be losing my head. I need to focus on what needs to be done so I can fix this place up.

  Heat and smoke and sex radiate off of him. Since when has Madden Trek become so confident? It suits him well and I find myself buckling under the spell he has me under. He’s seriously nothing like the boy I remember.

  “I’ll help you restore your dad’s legacy,” he says.

  I raise an eyebrow, wondering why, if I was such a bully as a teen—bad enough for the whole town to hate me—would he agree to help me? I wait for the catch. Whatever it is I know I have to agree to it. People in this town won’t help me, but they’ll help him. Besides, he has all the muscle I’ll need for the job. He can do all the heavy lifting.

  As if reading my mind, the muscles in his arms flex when he moves closer to me. He’s not doing it to show off, or to get my attention. He probably doesn’t realize he’s even doing it. That’s just what happens when his body moves. And he probably doesn’t even realize the effect he’s having on me, how turned on I am right now.

  A cocky smile appears on his face—maybe he can tell, after all.

  I try to remain cool and uninterested. It’s proving to be difficult.

  “I can be your lifeline,” he says.

  “But?” I add.

  His laughter is the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.

  “What’s the catch?” I ask. “There has to be one, right?”

  His smile slides into more of a smirk. “Of course there is. Nothing in life is free.”

  2

  Madden

  “So what is it? What do you want from me in exchange for you helping me return the Osprey into what it used to be?” she asks.

  “Simple. I’ll help you achieve your dream if …” I pause and let the silence linger for effect before continuing, “you agree to spend one night in my bed.”

  The look on her face is priceless. It’s exciting knowing that I can have any effect on her at all. It’s addicting. She’s always been beautiful, but when her lips open with surprise, her icy blue eyes open wide, and her cheeks flush, she’s a goddess. Lina Renier. Lina, Lina, Lina. I can’t believe she’s back. When I heard she moved away to LA, I thought I would never see her again. I wrote off that chapter in my life. But I never forgot about her. Not a single day went by when I didn’t think about her. She was always mean, always torturing someone. Everyone thought she was just a bitch, but I saw something else. I saw an insecure girl who only wanted to fit in, to make friends through any means possible. She lost her way and maybe she let her popularity get to her head. But there was more to her than that. Much more. When no one was around, she opened up to me. She let herself snort just a little when she laughed. She told jokes without fear of judgement. She was herself.

  When my brother’s friend, Chuck, at the locksmith shop told me she was back, the news literally took the air from my lungs. Chuck even asked what was wrong and told me I looked as though I’d seen a ghost. Feels like I have. I couldn’t get my truck here fast enough. I floored it through town, making my way to the old Osprey. When I got out of the truck and saw Linny all grown up in tight jeans and red high heels, I almost forgot I was supposed to be pissed off for what she did to me all those years ago. On the way over, I hoped she had let herself go, or maybe married some movie star and ruined her face with plastic surgery. Maybe if she looked completely different from what I remember, I could let her go. She does look different, but at the same time she looks the same. She’s curvier than she was in high school and maybe a little taller, but she’s just as beautiful as I remember. Maybe even more.

  Now she’s in front of me, stuck between accepting my offer and abandoning her goal. She’s too stubborn for the latter. At least I hope she is. The Linny I knew would never give up on her goals. I hope that part of her hasn’t changed.

  My blood runs hot as I wait for her to answer. I’d love for her to beg or whine, try to convince me that the deal is unfair. I want her to
squirm because she did much worse to me.

  Astonishingly, she holds her head up high and says, “Fine.”

  I cough out a laugh of surprise. I almost back up when she leans boldly toward me. She’s intimidating as all hell, just as she was in high school. Back then I would have shrugged away into the shadows, away from her powerful gaze that was always up to no good, but this time I hold my ground.

  “You’ve clearly held a candle for me all these years,” she says. “Let’s just fuck right now and get it out of the way.”

  My dick gets hard by her words without even thinking about it. I want to pounce on her right here, right now. Take her on this bar. But when her words finally sink in and I start to think with my brain instead of my dick, I realize that her teasing reminds me of how she was as a teenager, before she humiliated me in front of her friends.

  I take her chin in one of my hands and run my fingers through her hair with the other. Her fake confidence falters. There, now that’s better. I had a feeling it was all bravado. She doesn’t get to be in control this time. I promised long ago that she would never have that kind of control over me ever again. It’s my turn to take charge.

  I then reach over and grab her by the waist, pulling her up onto the bar, then sliding her onto my lap where I sit on a bar stool so that she straddles my waist. She hardly weighs a thing so it’s easy to move her as I please. She’s too shocked to do anything about it. Instead she stares at me with wide, curious—almost, but not quite fearful—eyes. She breathes quickly and her nervous heartbeat flutters against my chest. Her hands shake. She seems frozen in place. Good. I want her to know who’s boss now.

  Her whole body quivers, but right now I don’t think it’s just nerves. I have a feeling she’s just as turned on as I am.

  It would be so easy to take her right now. I doubt she would resist and I could have her in every position possible; have her begging me not to stop. But I have no intention of making this easy on her.

  “Better watch what you say,” I growl. “You might just get what you ask for.” If she thinks she can scare me off, I’ll call her bluff.

  I want her to want me. When I have her, it’s not going to be because she’s looking for easy labor. She won’t ever use me again. I want to show her that when I’m done with her, she’ll be begging me for round two, crawling on her knees for my cock. And I’ll look down at her the way she looked down on me all those years ago, and I’ll walk away without another single word.

  Then again, that might be difficult because when I look into her eyes there’s a spark there. There’s undeniable chemistry. I want so badly to kiss her right now. Instead, I lift her off my lap and set her on the bar stool across from me. I need her at arms-length before things get carried away and I can’t stop what we start.

  We are both breathing hard now. With her a safe distance away, I think about bending her over the bar, my palms on her sweet ass as I fuck her from behind. I imagine her pussy dripping, a puddle on the floor below us as I make her come. I think about fucking her so hard she screams my name and comes so violently I have to catch her before she hits the floor. It will happen, but it won’t be on her terms. It will only be on my terms. My revenge.

  She laughs, still breathless. “You thought I was serious? Give me a break.” She tries to come off like it was all a joke, but I know it wasn’t. She wants me, she just won’t admit it.

  “Accept my offer,” I say plainly with a shrug.

  This seems to infuriate her even more. I love watching her get angry. It’s adorable the way she scowls and her forehead wrinkles up.

  “I will never sleep with you,” she says. “I will never beg for anything from you. I don’t need your help. Now get out of my bar.”

  I smirk at her as she grows more and more flustered. I grab her phone. She tries to take it back, but I’m faster than she is, holding it over her head. She’s too short and growls with frustration. I laugh and move out of her reach. I add my number to her contact list. When I’m done, I hand it back to her.

  “I suspect I’ll be hearing from you soon,” I say, and leave the bar.

  3

  Lina

  I can’t get my breathing to slow down. Madden left fifteen minutes ago and I still can’t get myself to calm down. I’m all twisted up. I’ve never hated someone and wanted someone so much simultaneously. I can still smell him on my phone. I can still feel the warmth of his fingers on my chin and in my hair. The memory sends shivers throughout my body. His gorgeous face is imprinted in my mind, the way the sun burns itself into your eyes when you look directly at it. Madden has set up camp in my head and refuses to leave.

  Fuck that guy. Well, no, not fuck him. I refused to do that. I’ll restore this bar on my own. I don’t know how, but I’ll make it work. I don’t need him. I don’t need anyone.

  I finish inspecting the bar and adding items to my list. There will be a lot of things I’ll need to fix or replace entirely. It’s a lot. Almost to the point of being overwhelming. But I can do this. My dad built this place from the ground up. There’s no reason why I won’t be able to do some repairs.

  When the list is done, I lock the door behind me and head to my car. There’s a little motel down the road. I’ll book a room and try to get to sleep early so I can start working as soon as the sun comes up.

  Starting my car, I back up. With a jarring thud, my back tires hit something and my car slams to a stop. The wheels spin on the asphalt. What the hell was that? I turn the car off and get out to see what I hit. My back tire rests in a massive pothole. How did I not see that before? Looking around, I see them everywhere. This whole parking lot is like a minefield. Yet another thing I’ll have to fix. This one seems like the most expensive project yet. It’s a good thing I took out a big loan. But I don’t know a damn thing about filling in potholes in asphalt. Ugh.

  Taking a closer look at the back of my car, I see that my back axel is bent. Even if I could somehow manage to get my tire out of this hole, there’s no way my car will be able to drive without getting this fixed. I’m so frustrated I could scream. This town is nothing but bad luck.

  I lean against my car, dejected. There’s a tap on the hood of my car that scares the hell out of me. I jump, nearly breaking my ankle when my heel wobbles. I’m able to catch myself before I fall. Madden is wearing that infuriating smirk on his face again. The one that makes me want to swoon and punch him all at the same time. Was he waiting for me in the parking lot?

  “Looks like you’ll be needing my help after all,” he says.

  I sigh. He’s not wrong. With as difficult as the townspeople are being, I don’t imagine I can get a tow truck to come out here.

  “Fine,” I say, refusing to thank him even though I’m grateful for the help. My pride is far too overpowering to admit I need his help, let alone show gratitude for it.

  He uses chains to hook my car to his truck. “Abe’s garage isn’t far from here,” he says.

  I climb into the passenger seat of his truck and we drive down the road with my car towing behind. I can only imagine what this damage to my car will cost. Yet another thing that I’ll have to remove from my budget that I’d planned for the bar. Returning home hasn’t brought on the nostalgia that I’d hoped it would. So far it’s been less than pleasant. I’m starting to think I’ve completely run out of luck. Maybe this was a bad idea.

  We drop off my car at the garage. Abe is sweaty and greasy, and has a little gray at the temples, but looks much like he did in high school. He tells me he can fix it but he’ll need parts and he’s not sure when they’ll arrive. I’m not too worried about that part. It’s when he refuses to give me an estimate that I start to get a little nervous. I don’t have much of a choice though. Whatever it is I’ll have to pay it. I need my car, after all.

  Madden drops me off at my motel. There’s a girl behind the counter who looks like she can’t be any older than eight-years-old. She’s on her cell phone. Glancing up at me, she gives me an annoyed roll of her eyes a
nd goes back to her phone conversation. I stare at her, waiting for her to say something. But she doesn’t. Instead she complains to the person on the other side of the line about how Bobby Miller was totally checking her out when she was in line at the movies and what a weirdo he is. What a rude little shit. To be honest, she sounds a little like I did at that age. Now I can see why my mom was always griping at me.

  I have no patience for this. All I want is a warm shower and a comfortable bed. I’m overheated and exhausted after the long drive to Pepperhill and the strange day it’s been.

  A woman my age comes out of the office and I’m relieved to see an adult. “Hi there, how are …”

  We recognize each other at the same time. It’s Haley Greer, my best friend from high school.

  “Linny?” she says, seeming astounded at the sight of me. There’s curiosity in her tone, but there’s something else too. Unease, maybe? Annoyance? I don’t remember us leaving on bad terms. But that’s the problem: I don’t remember even saying goodbye to her. Or anyone else, really. One day my mom and I just left. “Is that really you?”

  “Haley,” I say. She looks just as exhausted as I do. There are bags under her eyes. She carries a little extra weight around the middle compared to the shapely body she had back in high school. She’s looks great though, if only a little tired. “You look fantastic. It’s been too long. How are things?”

  “Oh, you know. Living the dream.” She pats her daughter’s head and her daughter swats her hand away. No wonder she looks exhausted. That kid seems like a handful.

  “What are you doing back in town?” Haley asks.

  “Fixing up my dad’s old bar. Or at least trying to.” I hesitate, then smile. “Would you like to go have dinner tonight, catch up? I’d love to hear all the gossip about what happened around Pepperhill after I left.”