Until Easton

by Sandy Alvarez

  My shift at the salon doesn't start until this afternoon, so I decide to finish installing the carpet in the hall upstairs. I know grandpa said he'd take care of it or get David or Steve to finish the job, but they have their hands full repairing the fence line on the east side of the property. I woke up early this morning to let the horses out of the barn to find a coyote out in the pasture. Luckily, I saw it before it had a chance to spook them. Turns out the storm that rolled through a few nights ago blew down about one hundred feet of fencing. Repairing it will take up most of Steve and David's day.

  With the carpet securely in place, I pick up the first strip of baseboard and hold it against the wall, then grab hold of the nail gun lying on the floor to my right. After a few pulls of the trigger, the compressor kicks in, filling the hall with a loud humming noise. I don't know how much time passes but between the noise of the compressor and the sharp sound of the nail gun, I don't realize I have an audience until suddenly the compressor goes silent, and a throat clears from behind me, making me jump. Sitting back on my haunches, I look over my shoulder to see I'm face-level with a pair of thighs. Thighs that are covered in gray sweatpants. I don't have to look up to know who it is, but I do anyway. I let my eyes make the slow trek up. It's hard to ignore the very prominent outline of what I know is an impressive appendage. I pretend to ignore the sexy way those gray sweatpants hang so low on his hips, or the way they show off just enough skin to tell me he is most likely not wearing underwear, and continue up past a set of drool-worthy abs until I finally stop on Easton's face and settle my gaze on a pair of steel-gray eyes. For a split second, I feel rather proud of myself for schooling my features and not letting my attention linger on any particular part of his anatomy. That is, until those lush lips of his tilt up into a smirk. One that says he knows exactly what I'm thinking. God, he's more beautiful in person. Photographs don't do Easton Evans justice.

  "Can I help you?" I ask. I've spent the past twenty-four hours trying to ignore the reactions of my body and my brain since Easton showed up. Not only was I pleasantly surprised at how nice he's been, but he also shocked the hell out of me yesterday when he offered to help shovel shit not an hour after he arrived at the ranch. Easton Evans is not at all what I expected. That, paired with my strange reaction to him, is throwing me for a loop.

  "It's not even nine o'clock in the morning, Red. What's with all the noise?"

  My skin prickles at the husky tone of his sleep-filled voice, and I pray he didn't notice the way my body just shivered. "Well, you'll have to excuse the noise. There are about a million and one things that need to be done around here every day, and none of those things would get done if I waited for you to finally get out of bed."

  "Do you treat all guests who stay here like this?"

  I can tell by how Easton asks that he's joking, but I still feel the need to clarify the way things are. "You're not exactly a guest, so those rules don't apply." I give him a sugary sweet smile before climbing to my feet. And it's at that moment my leg shows me it fell asleep after being down on the floor for too long, causing me to lose my balance.

  "Careful," Easton murmurs, clamping his large hand around my bicep to steady me. And the moment his touch makes contact with my skin, there is a sudden tap of electricity that shoots through my body. It's the same tap I felt yesterday. On a gasp, I freeze, and my eyes once again connect with Easton's. By the look on his face, I'd say he felt it too.

  Ignoring the heated look Easton is currently boring into me, I break away from his hold and take a step back. I don't miss the way his fingers twitch as if he's desperately holding himself back from touching me again, and that does something weird to my senses. In fact, everything about Easton throws me off-kilter.

  "I can save the rest of this for later." I nod toward the floor where my tools lie. "It's Blue's wash day, and she doesn't like anyone to give her a bath but me."

  "Blue?" Easton asks.

  "Blue is one of our horses."

  Easton runs his hand through his inky hair. "I can help, you know. I mean, it's the least I could do for you letting me stay here." He shrugs.

  I give him a skeptical look. "You want to help me give my horse a bath? You didn't get enough yesterday?"

  "Yeah, why the hell not? I don't mind helping out. I don't have a problem earning my keep." Easton shrugs again like it's no big deal. Rockstar Easton Evans wants to get down and dirty with the rest of us.

  I mirror his shrug. "Sure, if you think you can hang."

  "Oh, Red." Easton chuckles. "I can hang. Trust me." Something tells me there's more behind that statement of his. "Give me ten, and I'll meet you downstairs."

  As promised, Easton appears on the front porch where I've been waiting. When he steps up beside me, I take in the gray t-shirt, faded jeans, and brown leather boots he's sporting, giving him a nod of approval.

  "Glad to see I passed inspection." He smirks.

  I roll my eyes and hand over a cup of hot coffee.

  "Thanks." He brings the mug to his mouth.

  "You're welcome. I was making one for myself and was feeling charitable. I wasn't sure how you take it, so I just put a dash of sugar and creamer; the way I like it."

  Nothing else is said for a few minutes. I watch out of the corner of my eye as Easton takes in the view while taking long slow sips from his mug.

  "It's quiet out here," he notes, his tone low. "Been a long time since I've had quiet."

  "I can imagine with your job and the lifestyle that comes with it."

  Easton nods.

  "I bet it's exciting, though."

  "Exciting gets old real fuckin' fast." He lets out a heavy sigh.

  I tip my head but decide not to say anymore. I get the feeling that it's too heavy of a topic for this early in the morning. So, instead, I nudge his arm with my elbow. "Come on, Blue will get in a tizzy if I keep her waiting, and I have to be at the salon in a few hours."

  An hour passes with Easton and I working together to bathe Blue. He takes cues from me on how to properly do everything. Blue has been a bit curious about the newcomer who is currently combing her mane, but I can tell by the way she's constantly nudging at him, she's found a new friend.

  "So, you said you work at a salon." After a long silent spell, Easton is the first to speak.

  "Yeah, I work part-time at the hair salon in town. I don't do hair or anything. I just schedule appointments, help clean up, things like that."

  "Why the part-time job? If you don't mind me asking."

  Pausing what I'm doing, I peer over at Easton, whose eyes are laser-focused on me, like he genuinely wants to know. "I don't mind."

  "I mean," he continues, "this place looks like it keeps you busy. Running it must be a full-time job in itself."

  "Oh, it is." I blow out a breath and think of how much I want to share. "Before my grandmother passed away, she was sick—cancer."

  "I'm sorry, baby," Easton interrupts, his face full of remorse.

  I bite my bottom lip to keep from crying. My grandmother has been gone for some time now, but it's a wound that never heals. "Anyway, it didn't take long for the doctor bills to pile up, so my grandfather was left with no other choice but to get a loan from the bank. The only thing he had of value was this land. Long story short, it became a struggle to keep up with the payments.

  In doing so, things around here started to deteriorate. We couldn't afford a lot of the upkeep. Things like a new barn, fixing the leaky roof, and installing new carpet were placed on the back burner. It caused a domino effect. We soon started seeing a decrease in guest bookings, and before long we had to cut staff. All we have left is Steve and David, but they stay mostly out of loyalty. They've been working for my grandfather for over twenty years.

  Now, I work at the salon to not only pay them but to contribute to the ranch. I'm not ready to give up on this place. This is my home." I stop staring off into space and bring my focus back to Easton to find him looking at me intently. It's the kind of look that makes m
y tummy flutter. Ignoring the flutters and realizing I may have shared too much, I decide to change the subject. "What about you? What's your deal?"

  The corner of Easton's mouth lifts into a smirk. "My deal?"

  "Yeah. How'd you get into music? Has it always been your dream to be a famous rock god?"

  "You think I'm a god?" His smile gets broader.

  I roll my eyes. "Don't go getting full of yourself. Poor choice of words on my part."

  Easton chuckles. "I guess you can say it's always been my dream. I've been singing and writing music for as long as I can remember."

  "I bet your family is really proud of you," I state.

  Something sad passes over Easton's face, but he's quick to school it. "Naw, my parents were against me chasing a music career at first. They've slowly been coming around the past couple of years and showing their support. It was my sister who bought me my first guitar on our tenth birthday." He shakes his head and smiles. "She saved a whole year to buy it for me. Every penny of her allowance went to buying that guitar."

  "You said our birthday," I point out.

  "Emerson and I are twins."

  "So, I take it you two are close?"

  Easton nods. "We are. My sister is my best friend and my biggest supporter. She's also a huge pain in the ass." He chuckles. "I wouldn't have it any other way, though."

  I can't help but laugh too. "I bet it was fun having a twin, too. Always someone to hang with, someone to have your back, and like you said, someone to be a constant friend."

  The two of us are silent for a beat before I decide to ask my next question. "How come your parents didn't want you going into music?"

  "The gist of it is my parents had a different vision of what they wanted for their kids. Both my parents are respectable doctors. Emerson followed in their footsteps and now owns her own practice in the town where she lives. I dropped out of medical school and chased music."

  "Wow. You were in medical school? Somehow, I can't see that."

  Easton quirks a brow. "Don't let my looks fool ya, Red. I graduated high school early and was at the top of my class when I did."

  "I didn't. I…that's not what I meant," I say with frustration.

  "Relax, Red. I know what you meant." Easton laughs at my frustration.

  "What I meant is I've watched videos of you up on stage. I can tell how much you love what you do and can't imagine you doing something else." I throw the towel in my hand at his face. He, of course, catches it mid-air.

  "Your sister, where does she live?" I continue.

  "She is in Montana with her husband and daughter."

  I smile. "Jax mentioned you were going to visit her and your niece; that it was her birthday."

  The mention of his niece brings a massive smile to Easton's face. "Yeah. I never miss one of Lydia's birthdays. I may not get to see my family a lot, but there are some occasions I make no exception for."

  For some reason knowing this revelation about Easton warms my heart. I'm starting to think all my preconceived notions were way off base. "And her husband, what does he do?" I ask.

  Easton looks at me, then looks away, then back at me like he's hesitant to answer my question.

  "Quinn is a member of the Kings of Retribution."

  I cock my head to the side. "Um, is that a motorcycle club?"

  "It is," is all he says.

  "Wow. Okay. That's um…cool." I don't really know what else to say. My knowledge of motorcycle clubs is zero. I hear people talk about MCs, but I'm not one to listen to rumors.

  "The Kings are cool, and my sister has never been happier than she is right now. All the other shit doesn't factor in."

  "You're right."

  After the heavy conversation on both ends, Easton and I finish our trek back to the house in comfortable silence. "Thanks for helping me with Blue," I tell him once we step up onto the porch.

  "You're welcome, baby."

  I jump, and a gasp escapes my mouth when his words are spoken into the shell of my ear.

  Oh god, there's that word again.

  "You okay?" he asks, taking one of my curls between his fingers, and I shiver. Easton doesn't miss my reaction either because I watch as his pupils dilate from beneath his hooded eyes.

  "Yes." My voice comes out breathless. "I just…I…" I begin to stutter and put some distance between us. Easton's presence, his smell, the way he dominates my attention; it all has me confused, and worst of all…he knows it. "I'm going to get cleaned before I head into town." I step away and toss a wave over my shoulder as I make a hasty retreat. Easton just stands there while leaning against the railing as he watches me walk away.

  "See you later, baby," he calls out.

  7

  EASTON

  I casually glance around the small bar and take a drink from the beer bottle in my hand. A pretty brunette across the room smiles at me, but I'm not interested. Doesn't surprise me. There's only one woman on my mind—Becca. My attention shifts and settles on Becca instead. Like I have for the past hour since she walked into the bar, I watch her. I haven't stopped thinking about her since I arrived. Becca is the first person I think about in the morning, and her face is the final vision to fill my head at night. And it's fucking with my head. The need to be around her any chance I can get has become my sole focus. Everything about her intrigues me.

  Would you fucking look at me? I'm out here lying low because of a stalker, who is obsessed with wanting to be with me, and I'm turning into one myself. How pathetic is that?

  Becca works harder than anyone I've known. She rolls out of bed before the sun rises to help run the ranch, then drives to town to work at the salon. The little help I've offered the past few days is nothing compared to the heart and determination Becca pours out to keep the ranch from drowning.

  She's sitting at the bar, talking with a friend, wearing a smile that doesn't reach her eyes, and I want to know why. Becca carries the weight of the world on her shoulders. She deserves to be taken care of, and all I know is I want to be the one doing it.

  "Easton." Jax says my name, and I snap my head in his direction.

  "Yeah?"

  He laughs. "What are you deep in thought about?"

  "Not what—who." I set my drink on the table.

  "Care to share?"

  I sigh. "The feisty, fun-sized redhead, Becca Connelly," I tell him, and he looks back to where my obsession sits.

  Jax turns back to face me. "No shit?"

  "I can't stop thinking about her."

  My friend's face turns serious. "Look, man. I'm all for a guy having fun as he lives up his single life, but Becca isn't a one-and-done woman. Her plate is full, and I don't want to see her get used."

  I down the rest of my beer. "It's not like that." Shit, I can't believe I'm fucked up over this. I run my fingers through my hair. "You ever look at someone, and every thought in your head vanishes? All thoughts except for them?"

  "I have."

  "I haven't." Not until five days ago. "The moment Becca looked at me, all the air left my lungs. I couldn't think straight. I got tunnel vision. All I could focus on was her. The feeling was foreign. It felt like I'd stepped into another dimension or something." I fixate on the water stain on the table's surface and trace its shape with my fingertip. "I had this—this, I don't know…gravitational pull toward her. An unseen force propelling me to her. Like, if I just got closer to Becca, I would breathe again." I let out a short laugh because I sound like an idiot trying to explain myself. "I sound like a fucking dumbass." Instead of reaching for my beer, I grab the bottle of whiskey that's been sitting in the center of the table and pour a shot, then throw it back. The smokey oak flavor from the barrel the whiskey was aged in coats my taste buds, and the alcohol burns my throat. Finally, I break free of the fog my brain settled in and look across the table to find Jax staring back, with the same grin as before still plastered to his face. "I'm clearly fucked up," I admit.

  "I agree. You are royally screwed for the rest of yo
ur life." He downs what's left of his beer. "You, my friend, experienced what us Maysons call the BOOM." He makes the hand gestures of an explosion.

  "The BOOM?"

  "The feeling you get the moment you lay eyes on the one. It's your soul reacting to finding its match—the one person you are destined and designed to walk through life with."

  "That's deep." I want to take another shot and act like what Jax said isn't at all what I experienced, but I'd be lying to myself. Deep down, I know it to be true. It has to be.

  Jax laughs. "And what you just confessed isn't. The BOOM is real. I felt it the moment I laid eyes on Ellie. Nothing else mattered. She was mine."

  Laughter draws my attention, and I turn my attention toward the bar to see some dipshit talking to my woman. Heat floods my veins when his hand touches the small of her back. Becca stands, and the asshole leads her to the dance floor. I watch them dance. He twirls her around the dance floor to the fast-paced music, and with each time his hand grips her waist, my jaw tightens more.

  This is bullshit.

  Do something, my inner voice says.

  "Well, Evans." Jax nods toward Becca and the fucker she's dancing with and gives me a 'what the hell you going to do' look.

  I push from the table, stand, and stroll across the bar to take what's mine. I ignore the chuckle coming from Jax when I do.

  The band playing finishes the song, then quickly moves into a slow one. Becca spots me moving her way, and her eyes widen. "Easton."

  "I believe you have your hands on my woman," I tell the guy she's with.

  "She's your girl?" Her dance partner glares at me.

  "That's right," I inform him and wait to see which way this exchange will go.

  The cowboy sizes me up then decides he's better off bowing out. He then looks at Becca, tips his hat, and says, "Thanks for the dance," then walks away.

  "What the hell, Easton?" Becca says as I place my hand on the small of her back and pull her body against mine. "What was that all about? I am not your girl."

  "Oh, yeah you are. You're mine."