“Why would you want me to stay with you? It’s clear you can’t stand me.”
“It’s also clear that you’ve fallen on hard times. If you need the place to crash, the door is open to you.”
“No, thank you.”
He released a weighted sigh and shook his head. “You’re so damn stubborn. It’s not safe around these parts at night, all right? Just because we live in a small town doesn’t mean there aren’t some creeps around. I’ve caught one too many wandering on the grounds in the past.”
“It’s fine. I can protect myself.”
He huffed as if he didn’t believe me. “Whatever you say, darling.”
Darling.
Way to make me gag.
He started to walk away and said, “But I bet showering with the water hose outside the stables isn’t the most pleasing sensation.”
I showered with that water hose extremely early, and the idea that Ian had caught me made my stomach turn. “How did you know I was showering with the hose?”
“Because that’s what I would’ve done.”
He left me standing there in the open field with a million thoughts I wanted to decipher. Instead of wasting more time trying to understand the mind of Ian, I went to work. Thank goodness for the hard work at the ranch. It gave me zero time to overthink things.
It’s just a stray dog; it’s just a stray dog.
Those were the words I kept on repeating to myself as I heard rustling outside the shed.
Or maybe it’s a chicken who got out of the coop. Or a cow roaming around. Maybe Dottie is here for girl talk.
Or perhaps it’s a psychotic mass murderer who’s here to skin me alive and make a stew out of my body parts.
It was funny how during the day places could feel like the safest places in the world, but then when the sun set and the shadows of night took over, everything became horrifying.
I pulled my comforter up to my chest as the rain hammered against the shed and water leaked inside through a variety of holes that Ian hadn’t managed to cover. For the most part, I’d managed to stay dry, thanks to him ignoring me when I told him he didn’t have to fix the rooftop.
Note to self: thank Ian for not listening to me.
I heard more movement outside, and my stomach sat in my throat as the sound of voices became audible over the pounding rain. There were people outside. People talking around the shed, near me.
“Rumor has it there’s a chick crashing in here,” a voice said, forcing me to my feet. Then there was a pounding of a fist against the shed.
I looked around the space for something I could use to protect myself. Anything at all to beat off whoever was outside my door. I picked up a flashlight that Ian had left me a few days ago and held it tightly in my hands. I wasn’t certain if I was going to blind the people to death or beat them over the head. All I knew was the only thing currently protecting me was that metal flashlight.
Note to self: thank Ian for the flashlight.
“Let’s go get the others to check it out,” one said.
I waited a few seconds and listened to them hurry away. The moment I thought they must have departed, I swung the door open, dashed out of the space, and ran like Dottie across the field straight to Ian’s house. I rang the doorbell repeatedly, shivering from the rain and my dang nerves as I glanced over my shoulders in a panic again and again, terrified that there was someone following me.
I began pounding against his door as my heart rose to my throat. I tried my best to swallow it down, but my mind was spinning too quickly.
Knock, knock, knock.
Open the freaking door, Ian!
The moment it swung open, I released a breath of relief and rushed into the space without an invite of any kind. “Okay, you win. I’ll take the spare room,” I said, my voice shaky as I began pacing in his living room. His . . . very nicely furnished living room. His very nicely furnished and very warm living room.
Warmth.
Oh gosh, that felt so good.
“Uh, can I help you?” a voice asked. I finally turned around to see the person who’d opened up the door, and it was definitely not Ian. It was a woman wearing his clothes, though. At least I assumed they were his clothes. Otherwise she was wearing things fifty times too big for her body. I shouldn’t have assumed, though. I supposed I did the same thing.
“Oh, sorry. I thought . . .” I scrunched up my nose and rubbed my forehead. “Is Ian here?”
“What’s going on in here?” a deep, smoky-as-sin voice asked, making me snap my head toward the hallway. There he was in all his glory. A towel sat wrapped around his waist, his hair was dripping wet, and his body gleamed with water droplets as if he’d just walked out of a waterfall cover shoot, and oh my gosh, I was staring at the bulge beneath his towel as if his member were singing siren songs toward me.
I wondered if his lower half could hit the same high notes as his vocals.
Wait.
No.
I didn’t wonder that at all.
I spun on my heel away from him and covered my eyes with my hands. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were otherwise occupied. Jeez. That’s gross. Okay, I’ll be going now,” I said, trying to walk away but bumping into a table, sending a lamp crashing to the ground. I peeked through my fingers and cringed. “Oops? Sorry about that.”
I looked over to Ian, and he was still in that dang towel and still giving me his displeased expression.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, raking his hand through his dripping hair.
“I thought—” I started.
He held a hand up to me. “Not you.” His eyes darted to the other woman. “You. What are you doing here?”
His eyes pierced into her as if he was beyond annoyed. He looked at her with even more hatred than he gave me—which said a lot.
She ran her hands over her outfit and gave him a sly smile. “Yes. I figured we could try to have that night together that we missed a few days ago.”
“You mean the night where I found out you had a husband?” he murmured.
“Listen, it’s complicated. My husband and I aren’t even intimate anymore.”
“Don’t care. Not my problem. The minute a spouse is revealed, I’m out. I don’t have time for your drama. Take it elsewhere. I don’t know how you got into my place—”
“The front door was unlocked,” she commented. “And I heard rumors that if the front door is unlocked, women can walk right on in.”
“Bullshit. So go ahead and walk right on out. Take off my clothes and leave them here too.”
Well, this is uncomfortable.
I stood there frozen during the most awkward situation of anyone’s life. The woman looked defeated as she moseyed over to her clothes and switched into them quickly before heading outside into the rain.
If I were a turtle, I’d be an awkward one standing there.
Ian brushed his hands against his face and released a weighted sigh as I counted the water droplets still rolling down his toned chest.
One, two, skip a few . . .
Each water droplet cruised down his abs to hit the top of the towel, and there I was, staring once again, at his crotch.
I shook my inappropriate thoughts away and cleared my throat. “Do you often have random females crashing into your house uninvited?”
“You’d be surprised to know it happens a lot more often than not. Now, what are you doing here?”
I bit my thumbnail and tried to control the nerves rocking inside of me. “I was wondering if that room was still available for me to take on?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “What? You get spooked out there or something?”
“No,” I lied, crossing my arms. “Your roofing skills just aren’t as impressive as they should’ve been.” Gah, Haze. Stop being so sassy and sarcastic. He offered you an olive branch. Don’t piss on it and end up back in the shed with the psycho killers. “Sorry. My instant reaction is sarcasm.”
“It’s fine. My inst
ant reaction is asshole.”
“Well, as long as we both know who we are, rooming together should be fine. But I do have a few rules about us living together.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me one bit?”
I smirked a little and kept my arms crossed. “I pay rent. Whatever you’re paying, I’ll pay half of it.”
“Done. What else?”
“I like to cook, and if there are leftovers, you can have them. I hate leftovers.”
“Okay. Any more things, darling?”
“Oh yes. Don’t call me ‘darling.’”
“Chicks love being called ‘darling,’” he countered.
“Women don’t like being called ‘chicks’ or ‘darling.’ Really, for a rock star, you sure are ignorant to what women want.”
He took a few steps closer to me and lowered his brows. His deep-chocolate eyes pierced me and forced my stomach to flip upside down and sideways. The stubble on his chin was so perfectly groomed, and his lips looked soft enough to kiss. He slid his teeth slowly against his bottom lip before brushing his thumb against it and raised a brow. “And what exactly is it that women want, Hazel Stone?”
The way he used my full name made me dazed and confused. Gosh, I hated him. I hated how cocky and confident and moody and sexy he was all at once.
“Th-they w-w-want to be called anything in the world other than ‘chick’ or ‘darling.’”
He eyed me up and down and placed his hands against the top of his towel, securing it in place. “Duly noted. Any more rules?”
“Yes, and this one is important.”
“I’m all ears.”
“We lock the door at night. The last thing I need is some Amber, Reese, or Sue sneaking into the house, looking to find you for a round of sexual escapades, then taking a wrong turn and ending up in my bed.”
A wicked smirk hit his lips. “That doesn’t sound so bad to me. I could always head over and join in on the party.”
I felt my face flush and tried my best to shake off the nerves. “I’m serious, Ian. I don’t want some random person walking in. That makes me nervous.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, still staring at me as if he was trying to dissect my mind. Then he moved away from my side and walked over to the front door and locked it.
A whispered breath left my lips. “Thank you. Do you want to show me which room is mine?” I asked, taking a step toward the hallway, but his hand landed on my shoulder.
“Now hold on there a minute. You’re not the only one with house rules. I got some of my own.”
“Oh? And they are?”
“You can’t judge me on the number of women I bring in and out of this household. We all got our hobbies, and mine happen to involve a lot of intimate moments with different women.”
“Ignore your manwhore ways. Got it. What else?”
“I’m more music than man. When I’m inspired, I might start playing or singing at odd hours of the night. If I don’t get it out, I’ll drown. I don’t want no noise complaints.”
“Makes sense. What else?”
“This is the most important one of all. I’ll stay out of your affairs, and you’ll stay out of mine, but if Big Paw asks you—you and me? We’re friends. Good ol’ pals.”
“Why would it matter if Big Paw thought we were . . .” My words trailed off, and I arched an eyebrow. “Did he tell you to befriend me and to let me move in with you?”
His quietness told his truths.
“Unbelievable.” I sighed. But then again, was it really that unbelievable? Of course there was a reason Ian wanted me to crash at his place. I was well aware that he hadn’t liked me from the jump, so the complete one-eighty of him inviting me to stay with him made no sense whatsoever. “Why would Big Paw do that?”
“He found out you were staying in the shed and didn’t want you doing something like that, seeing as how it’s idiotic and unsafe.”
There was the Ian I knew and loved. Mr. Charming.
“So he told you to let me stay with you?”
“Yup.”
“And if you didn’t?”
“He’d sell the house, and I’d be living in a damn shed too. Look, I know this isn’t ideal for either of us, but we both got a dry place to put our heads at night. So let’s just make the most of it, and if Big Paw asks, we’re buddy-buddy. Okay?”
“Okay. I can handle that. How much do I owe for rent each month?”
“Free ninety-nine. I don’t pay rent, so half of that is nothing. I’m going to get ready for bed, but your room is down the hallway to the left. I left you some spare clothes if you need them.”
“Please don’t tell me they are the clothes other women have worn of yours.”
“Don’t worry; they are freshly cleaned. If you need anything else—don’t.”
He turned around on his heel and took his grumpy and somewhat sexy ol’ butt to bed.
“Good night, best friend,” I called out, tongue in cheek.
“Don’t push it, Hazel Stone.”
I couldn’t help it. Pushing Ian Parker was becoming one of my favorite pastimes.
I headed to my bedroom and found a bathroom attached to it. I had my own bathroom. One I didn’t have to share with anyone other than me. Never in my life had I thought that would ever be a thing for me. I grabbed the clothes on the bed, headed straight to the shower, and turned it on steaming hot.
Warmth washed over me as I scrubbed my body clean with a very masculine-smelling soap—probably the same soap Ian used against his skin.
I’d forgotten how great it felt to stand inside a tub and have hot water racing across my body. The water hose outside the stables was always freezing cold. After the shower, I tossed on Ian’s clothes and looked a little too much like the woman who’d left earlier that evening. I would’ve complained about it if the clothes were not so freaking comfy and dry.
When it came time for bed, I thanked the heavens above for an actual mattress and a pillow to lay my head against. Tears formed in my eyes from Big Paw’s kindness. The fact that he’d seen me struggling and forced his grandson to help me was the truest form of kindness. I had nothing to offer Big Paw. I pretty much had nothing to my name, and still, he’d chosen to help me.
I owed him everything and more.
I had been without a home for two and a half weeks, and they were the toughest few weeks of my life. I couldn’t imagine what it felt like for people who lived that life on the regular.
Even though all the pieces of my messy puzzle weren’t together, I was thankful, because I knew somewhere out there, men and women were sleeping in dangerous corners of the world without a Big Paw to bring them in for the night.
That night I promised myself that whenever I received the chance to help someone, I’d pay it forward in a heartbeat.
6
IAN
What in the hell is that smell?
I woke up to an excruciating scent filling the house, and the moment I sat up in my bed, I knew exactly what the smell was—pig shit.
I pulled myself out of bed and headed toward Hazel’s bedroom. I knocked repeatedly against her door, and she opened it, still tired in the face, but freshly out of the shower. She was wearing a pair of shorts and a tank top and not a drop of makeup.
She looked . . . different.
Completely different than I knew her to be. Hazel had a much smaller frame than her oversize clothes would’ve led one to believe, and her skin was perfectly smooth, with small freckles dancing across her nose.
Her green eyes shone so much more without those pounds of makeup sitting against her face too.
She was beautiful.
Fuck me sideways and call me Jim—Hazel Stone was breathtaking.
She cocked an eyebrow as I cocked another body part. “Can I help you?” she asked.
I tried my best to shake off my moment of confusion and cleared my throat. I started sniffing the air and looking around her bedroom as I scratched at my messy hair. “It smells like pig
s in here.”
“If you think telling a girl her room smells like pigs is your way of making a girl feel good about herself, then you are very off track.”
“I thought you were a woman, not a girl.”
“Girls, women, chicks, darlings—either way, we don’t like being told we smell like pigs.”
I almost smiled. “I didn’t say you smell like a pig. I said your room does.”
I walked inside uninvited and kept searching, kept sniffing the air, and then my eyes landed on the pair of torn-up combat boots sitting in the corner of the room. “Haze! You can’t just leave those sitting in here. They’re gonna stink up the whole place. Then you’ll go nose blind to pig smells, and your life will undoubtably go horribly from that point on.”
I went to pick them up, and she jumped in front of me, holding up her hands to halt me. “No, stop!”
“Listen, if it’s about the shoes, I’m sure you can get a new pair.”
“I don’t want a new pair. These are mine.”
I raised an eyebrow and studied her. She looked as if she was on the verge of tears over some dang combat boots. “What do they mean to you?”
“Everything.”
“Why?”
“They were the last thing my mom bought for me,” she confessed, and for some reason that confession seemed so out of character for her to share with me. “I love those boots. Sure, they’re dirt cheap, have holes in the soles, and pinch at my toes, but they’re mine. And they hold a special memory.”
I couldn’t argue with that. I still had articles of Mom’s and Dad’s clothing sitting in a box in my closet. But dammit, those boots smelled so bad.
She cleared her throat and crossed her arms. “During one of Mama’s stints of getting clean and away from Charlie, she took some cash from him, and we stayed in a motel for two weeks. It was the best two weeks of my life. We crashed the vending machines daily, watched Pretty Woman on repeat, and laughed about anything and everything under the sun. It was the longest amount of time I ever had my mom to myself. One afternoon, she took me shopping, and we came across those combat boots in the Goodwill store, and I fell in love with them. She said if they fit, they were mine. I remember sliding them on, wishing and hoping they were mine.
The Wreckage of Us Page 6