Risqué Renovation [Blue Collar 1] (Siren Publishing Classic)
Page 6
“Hey there, if it isn’t Grand Isle’s newest resident. How are you doing this beautiful Sunday, Patreece?”
“Oh, hello, Kade. I’m fine, thank you. And yourself?”
“Can’t complain. A bit tired after all the festivities yesterday, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He leaned in a little closer and whispered, “Besides, my mother wouldn’t have it any other way, either.”
He hoped making a joke might soften her hard exterior, if only a little. He realized quickly how big of a mistake it had been. Her body stiffened and she stepped back to distance herself from him.
“Your mother is a very sweet lady. I enjoyed meeting her. Anyway, I’ve got to go. Have a nice day, Mr. Riley.”
What. The. Ever-loving. Fuck.
Kade looked over at the baker. “Did that just happen?”
“Sorry, Kade. I’d let you get close to me anytime.” Charlotte, the forty-six-year-old baker who used to babysit him when he was a boy, gave him a wink.
“Ha-ha! I’ll just bet you would, Miss Charlotte. You were always the wildest of all the sitters my parents hired.”
“Pfft…You say wild. I say fun.”
“I bet all those boyfriends you used to have over sure thought you were fun. Granted, I guess I shouldn’t really say anything, since we had that pact and all,” he teased.
“That’s right. You shush up now. Your mama still thinks I’m a sweet thing. We don’t want her thinking otherwise, now, do we?”
“No, I guess we don’t. Speaking of sweet things, how about fixing me up with a couple of those red-velvet cupcakes of yours?”
“Sorry, Kade. No can do. I sold the last four to Ms. Warren.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Really? She likes red velvet, huh?”
“Uh-oh, I’ve seen that look before.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Charlotte snickered. “Oh, nothing. Not saying a word. But I will suggest that you get your hiney moving. Looks as if she’s almost finished paying for her groceries.”
Kade smiled at her. “Thanks, Charlotte. I’ll see you around.”
“I’ll be here.” She waved him off.
He made his way to the front of the store quickly, arriving at the conveyer belt just as Patreece finished paying.
“Hey, stranger. Funny running into you here.”
She offered him a polite smile but seemed focused on getting her bags into her cart. He waited, thinking she would at least have the manners to turn and say good-bye. Instead, she started to leave.
“Hey, Patreece,” he called out to her, not entirely sure what he planned on saying.
She turned back toward him. “Yes?”
Say something, Kade! “Umm…How’s the new house? Need any help with anything? I can always—”
“No, I’m fine. Thanks. I need to go. Bye.”
Patreece all but ran out of the store. Her dislike for him was beginning to annoy him. She didn’t have to fall all over him, but it also wouldn’t kill her to be cordial and display some manners.
“Woohoohoo. Looks as if someone doesn’t like you too much, Kade,” Ronnie Michaud taunted.
Kade eyed Shirley Michaud’s seventeen-year-old grandson and reminded himself Ronnie was only a kid. Still, Patreece’s dismissive behavior was really beginning to tick him off. It wasn’t as if she was Rachael’s age and of the mindset that maybe all boys had cooties or some other nonsense.
“Just ring up the food, would ya?”
“Oh, lookey here.” Ronnie picked up a bag. “Seems someone forgot one of their bags. Maybe you should take it to her?”
Still perturbed, Kade blurted, “Forget it. I’m not taking her anything…” He stopped, thought about it and reconsidered his answer. “Actually, I think I will take it to her. Ring up my stuff, Ronnie. I’ll stop by Ms. Warren’s place later today and give her the bag.”
He waited while Ronnie slid each item over the glass scanner. The monotonous sounds of beeps played in his head like an obnoxious symphony. He was glad the snooty Ms. Warren had left her bag behind. He’d take his time, stop by the café, go home and eat his lunch. Then, a little bit later, he’d stop by her place unexpected and when her guard was down. He’d give her the bag…and maybe a piece of his mind, too. He didn’t need her attitude or her abrupt dismissals. He was Kade Riley for crying out loud. There were plenty of women who would love to have his attention.
If just one of those women had grabbed his interest the way Patreece Warren had, he’d be all set, but the crux of it was that not one of them did. Not a single one. This woman, whoever the hell she was, had swept into his little town and invaded his mind. He just wished he knew how she’d managed to capture his attention so easily.
Chapter Nine
“Ahh!” Patreece closed the lid to the washing machine and kicked the pile of clothes lying at her feet. For over half an hour, she had fiddled with the damn washer, checking the plug, wiggling the connection, and still she couldn’t get the damn thing to work. It was as dead as her mood.
She heard a scurrying sound and quickly turned to look behind her. The dark and damp cellar had only one light, and its regular-sized bulb did little to brighten the dingy space. In another time and place, she might have been freaked out by the spooky-looking, cinder block room.
Sleep had been a nice idea last night, but she hadn’t slept a wink. Several times at the fair, she’d caught Kade staring at her. She was always quick to look away. Still, it seemed the more he sought her out, the more she found herself doing the same. There was something about him that intrigued her and made her nervous all at the same time. She didn’t want to appear rude. She just didn’t know how else to handle someone like him. He was devastatingly handsome. Her body reacted to him, and all but begged her to get to know Mr. Riley better. The combination of no sleep and her wandering mind always taking her back to him only worsened her mood.
To make matters worse, her frustration had been growing all afternoon, ever since she left the market earlier that day. If that damn Kade Riley hadn’t been there, she might not have run out looking like a fool. There was something about him that made her jittery. She didn’t like it and had no intention of spending time trying to figure out why. The farther she could keep away from him, the better off she would be.
She knew as soon as she’d gotten home and started unloading her things that she’d forgotten the bag with the cupcakes in it. Those little sinful pieces of sugared heaven were exactly what she needed to escape her frazzled nerves. There was a time when sweets used to be a daily vice for her. Carl put the kibosh on that real quick. He didn’t want any woman of his getting fat, he used to say.
Looking back, she realized just how strange it all was. She hadn’t found it odd that he had referred to her as though she might be one of many women. It was just one of the numerous ways that Carl had manipulated and deceived her. He was a possessive man, one who watched her every move and questioned everything she did. The same rules never applied to him, though.
He had many girlfriends over the years. When she first learned of his infidelity just six months into their marriage, she had been devastated. By the second and third time, her heart was completely broken. After a while, she just learned to accept it and never question it. She learned the hard way that doing so hurt a lot more than her heart. As it turned out, the emotional pain was much easier to withstand than the physical. Carl had a firm hand and saw no problem with unleashing his rage on his much smaller wife.
The noise she’d heard a few minutes ago was louder and seemed much too close for her comfort. She remained still, listening for any movement when another noise sounded directly behind her.
She spun around just in time to catch a glimpse of a long, thin and utterly creep-worthy tail before it disappeared behind her water heater.
“Ahh!”
She hurriedly snatched up as many of her dirty clothes as she could and raced up the stairs in double time, slamming the cellar door behind her. Obviously,
she was going to have to add mousetraps to her next shopping list. And cupcakes—or some other sweet that would allow her to drown in the blissful exhilaration of sugar while forgetting her troubles.
She carried her clothes back to the bedroom and made a pile near the closet. She hadn’t planned on getting a new washing machine, but she was at least thankful she had the money to do so. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she wondered what to do with the rest of her night. In all the months she had spent planning her great escape from her old life, she never stopped to consider what she would do with a spare moment. So much of her past had been consumed with constant worry or fear. Now that she had absolutely nothing to be afraid of, she couldn’t help but feel completely bored. She had no job, no real friends, not even a television to curl up in front of.
She stood up and shook off her somber mood, refusing to let it get the better of her. After everything she had been through, she should be running around the house, dancing and singing in her underwear. The thought made her grin and brought her back to reality. So what if she was bored. She was safe. Boredom beat getting smacked around by Carl any day.
Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten. She’d become accustomed to skipping meals back in Beverly Hills, doing anything she could to keep her figure so Carl wouldn’t get angry. Damn, but she loved some good old-fashioned home cooking. Her mother used to make a wonderful pot roast. She had always wanted to try to match the recipe, but never had. That was just going to have to change.
She made her way back to the kitchen and pulled out the fixings for a sandwich. Until she got the place nice and clean, she hadn’t wanted to do any real cooking. Plus, she still needed to buy dishes and all the other millions of things one never thinks of when they’re starting over. Had she not walked past the paper aisle in the store, she probably wouldn’t have even remembered the plastic utensils and paper plates.
Once she got out the bread and started making her sandwich, the savory taste of roast beef tempted her nose and eyes a little too much. Suddenly, one sandwich didn’t seem as if it was going to cut it. With a pleased smile, she made herself a second sandwich, complete with cheese, lettuce, tomato and mayonnaise. Then she cut them into four triangles just like her mother used to and went to sit at the small kitchen table.
Thankfully, the Bryant family had left a few of the older pieces of furniture behind, otherwise she’d be sleeping and eating on the floor. It had kind of given her a creepy feeling, sleeping on Mr. Bryant’s old bed. She made a note to look into secondhand shops for things she would need. She had the money to afford new but didn’t want people asking too many questions. Besides, she had new this, new that, new everything in Beverly Hills. That wasn’t what she wanted or needed anymore. She needed charm and character in her home, nothing too sterile or uninviting.
Only fifteen minutes later and she had wolfed down the last bite of her sandwiches. Her stomach felt as if it were going to explode, she was so stuffed. She had no idea what they put in the meat at the deli, but it tasted as if it had been marinated in a little bit of heaven and a whole lot of bliss.
After relaxing for a few minutes, she got up to throw away her plate. The sun was setting and there was nothing for her to do, so she figured she’d crawl into bed and read the newspaper she’d picked up earlier that day. Before settling in, she changed her sheets and slipped into a night shirt. It was one of her dad’s old T-shirts. His personality was larger than life, but so was his stature. He was brawny, too, which made the shirt swim on her body.
It was one of the few items from her younger days that Carl had allowed her to keep. Sure, he had chastised and belittled her over it, but he’d eventually relented and allowed her that one simple pleasure. Knowing she needed to keep a distance from her family for fear Carl was having them watched, she cherished this shirt, along with a few other small mementos, as they provided the few ties she had to a happier time.
She squeezed a dollop of toothpaste onto her toothbrush and turned on the faucet when her quiet night was interrupted by chaos. Water squirted out, hitting her in the eye. Her toothbrush flew from her hand and an instant later, she heard the unmistakable sound of something plopping in the toilet. Turning her head sideways, she reached for the knob to turn it off. She turned it and turned it, then turned it again, but nothing happened. Ducking underneath the continuous stream of water, she tried wiggling the faucet in hopes she could undo whatever the hell she had done. Nothing she did worked. She finally leaned into it, trying to use all her weight. She realized a second too late just how bad of an idea that was.
The knob came free from the faucet and the continuous stream turned into a horrendous geyser. Water shot up from her sink as if it was a fire hydrant that had just been run over.
“Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!” she shouted to the empty room, knowing full well it wouldn’t do a damn thing.
She stared at the tsunami taking over her bathroom and cringed as she realized she had no freaking clue what to do. She closed her eyes and silently prayed that maybe it was all just a really annoying dream. The sound of water splashing around told her she couldn’t be further from the truth.
Was this going to be her demise? Would surviving Carl have been for naught, because this damn house, which she’d insisted on having, was going to do her in? She laughed bitterly at the irony. It was either let the humor in or cry. And she vowed long ago to never cry again. She’d shed way too many tears in her life already.
She took a calming breath and tried to think. She was a grown woman. Surely she was smarter than a damn faucet. Suddenly, she remembered something her father taught her when she was younger. A valve. There should be some sort of shutoff valve near the sink. She looked behind the porcelain pedestal and saw a silver oblong knob. It was wet and worn, making it nearly impossible to get a good grip on it. She had to try, though, and give it her best. She wrapped her fingers around the cold metal and turned as hard as she could. It barely moved at all. Still, it did give just a little.
The water was beginning to creep up the sides of her feet. She didn’t have time to look, but she prayed it wasn’t getting to the rest of the house. Moldy carpet was the last thing she needed. At least the bathroom was tiled and would make for an easy clean-up. She knelt down in order to get better leverage and put everything she had into it. She wasn’t sure, but didn’t think it should be this hard to turn it off. She considered that maybe she was making it worse. Stopping for a second, Patreece squinted, trying her best to read the tiny, oxidized letters on the nozzle. They were completely illegible. All she had to go on was a faint memory she had as a child. Her dad always made it look so easy. Righty tighty, lefty loosey. Easy-peasy. Right!
Clearly, she was an idiot, or this house was out to get her, because nothing she was doing was working. Her shirt was now soaked and she was beginning to shiver. She wasn’t sure if she should be thankful she turned on the cold water first or not. Though, in retrospect, being blasted with cold sounded a lot better than scalding her body with the hot.
Damn it! Why was this so freaking hard! Turn a knob! How hard is it? Was she a complete moron that she couldn’t even…?
Finally, it began to move. The oblong piece of metal started to move with her manipulations. She felt as if she might just get herself out of this mess. The relief-filled moment lasted only a second before something went horribly wrong.
“Nooo!” she screamed.
Water shot everywhere, much higher than it had been. She squinted against the harsh spray and tried to stand while pushing herself up against the wall. Bracing her other hand against the sink, she managed to get up to a standing position. As soon as she made it upright, the slippery floor got the better of her and she lost her balance. Quicker than she even had time to react, her feet were sliding out from underneath her as she fell to the floor.
The back of her head cracked painfully against the tile floor. She felt disoriented for a second and actually thought she heard a man’s voice. Kade’s voice.
She lifted her hand and rubbed her eyes. The voice was getting louder and it no longer sounded as if it was her imagination. She tried to hear what he said over the sound of the water, but it was nearly impossible.
A large shadow of a man came toward her. She tried to see who it was as she squinted against the constant water spraying around her. Whoever he was, he stepped over her and reached behind the sink. She heard the welcome sound of metal scraping against metal as the valve turned. Next, she heard the magnificent sound of the water slowing until finally there was nothing more than a few drips. Then, thankfully, silence followed soon after. The water was finally off. Whoever he was, he was a miracle worker in her book.
He stood over her and bent down. With strong hands, he lifted her up and pulled her to a standing position. The light no longer cast a shadow against his face and she could see who it was that had come to her rescue.
Kade.
She could feel his breath on her face. Despite her shivering, instant heat warmed her wet body. The cold water at her feet no longer made her tremble. Her heart began beating at a rapid pace as she looked up into his chocolate eyes. A sensation she’d forgotten she was capable of worked through her body. Her pussy quivered and coated her panties in an entirely different kind of wetness.
That bundle of nerves that had tormented her all night and day worked its way up to her throat. It lodged in place, making uttering a single word impossible. Not that she’d have any idea what to say him. She had no idea what it was about this man that caused such havoc on her thoughts and action. Damn it all. Something told her she was about to find out.
Chapter Ten
Kade looked down at her. His breath was caught somewhere between his throat and his lungs. He’d had every intention of coming here to hand over her bag and give her a piece of his mind while he was at it. When he knocked and heard her scream, all rational thought went out the window. All he could think of was getting to her to make sure she was okay. The last thing he expected to find was her lying on the bathroom floor, wearing a completely soaked, thin T-shirt that exposed every inch of her skin right down to her hardened nipples. The only thing that trumped how sexy she looked was the worry he had that she might be hurt. She wasn’t, though. She seemed as if she was just fine. And now she was standing just inches away from him, wearing nothing but a thin layer of fabric that was doing absolutely nothing to hide her body.