by Delka Beazer
I blushed and was glad that the night hid it.
He let out a rueful chuckle, “I know-”
“Lola!” My dad’s roar sent me reeling, I jumped to my feet, leaving Jake prone on the boulder, he quickly rebalanced and stood beside me. He reached out to take my hand.
I snatched it away and refused to look at him. I didn’t want to see the hurt there. I scooted down the rock onto the sandy beach of the lake.
My dad stood in front of me, his dark face made blacker by anger.
He gripped my arm and hauled me after him, I stuck my heels into the sand, “please dad, I’m alright.”
“Let go her fucking arm,” Jake’s voice was quiet and dead.
I flinched as Jake stood beside me. His lean face was transformed. Gone was the open, teasing man I’d spent the last half hour with and in its place was a face that would frighten a burglar. His eyes were slits, his mouth one white, thin line, tension hummed all around him.
He gripped my dad’s arm, the same one that held me imprisoned.
Beside me my dad’s chest rose and fell with fury.
I tried to stay calm, “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
My dad’s eyes slashed to mine, the muscles in his jaw throbbed, “you sneak out of the house at midnight to meet the doctor’s son and claim you didn’t do anything wrong?”
I tensed but Jake beat me to a reply.
“She’s an adult, she can do whatever the hell she wants.”
“Not under my roof,” my dad shot back.
His eyes dropped to Jake’s strong fingers wrapped around his arm, “take your damn hands off me.”
“Take your hands off Lola,” Jake said low, his voice laced with steel, “and then I’ll consider it.”
Unbelievably my dad let Jake go, then released my arm. He shot Jake a look full of simmering disgust, “why don’t you leave? It would be best for everyone around these parts.”
Huh?
I turned to question Jake and stopped. He was standing with his legs slightly apart, his fists clenched at his side. His face was carved from stone, his eyes … they were savage and filled with such bottled rage. I caught my breath.
He heard me, his eyes swung down to mine, he took a tentative step closer. I felt my dad move up behind me. To protect me from Jake?
I swung to my dad, “Stop this. Jake’s not gonna hurt me!” my dad glared and opened his mouth to say something, I ignored him and turned back to Jake.
But he was gone. His long, angry strides rapid, his body stiff with anger.
An ache closed over my throat as I watched him stalk away.
My dad huffed in disdain, “Come,” he snapped over his shoulder as he too headed for home.
Jake’s words from moments before burned on my tongue, I’m an adult, leave me the hell alone!
But the rebellious thoughts never left my mouth. I owed my dad too much. I followed him home.
Chapter four
Dad stopped the moment we got home. The glare of the yellow porch light flooded the front yard. He paused at the bottom of the steps leading to the front door.
I stiffened as his eyes raked over me but I didn’t look away. Rage I expected but … pity I hadn’t.
“Lola, don’t do this to yourself,” he pleaded his weathered face twisted in lines of worry.
I wrapped my arms about my waist, his anger I could’ve handled but not this, “Dad, it’s not what you think.”
His brown eyes grew hard, “how so? I may be old but I know what a man like him wants,” he said coldly.
I raised my chin defiantly, “so what?” I shot back, “at least I know he could feed whatever brat he put in my belly!”
His hand came up, then he glared at me as I stood trembling but not backing down, he dropped it, “dammit Lola this was not the life Margery and I wanted to give you,” he groaned.
He should’ve hit me. It would’ve been kinder. Instead he reminded me of that fact.
I fought against the urge to cry out but I wounded him in the only way I could, “you’re not my real father, so why should you care if I destroy my life.”
The whites of his eyes showed, his teeth gleamed as he absorbed the brutal truth of my words, “I’m not your father but I’m the only family you got, you hear me?” he barked.
I wobbled on my feet and closed my eyes tight. Adopted. At eight. And taken to live in the small Colorado town called Peaceful Valley, where everyone had roots and tattered, treasured Christmas toys they loved.
He gulped, “don’t see him again.”
“No!” the words leaped out of my mouth without thought. I glared mutinously at him, my body started to tremble with wrath.
His eyes grew cold at the look on my face, I tried to reason, “We work for him-”
“We work for his father,” he cut me off.
“He’s my friend,” I flung back, though until that moment I didn’t know it was true.
His mouth twisted with derision, “And I’m little red riding hood,” he reached towards me but I flinched back, his mouth turned grim, “that punk only wants to play Lola. Then he’ll toss you aside and walk away.”
That stung because it was too close to what I’d accused Jake of. Tormented I pushed past him and dragged open our front door, I yelled back at him, “what I do with my life is none of your business, if you don’t want me here just say the word and I’ll go!”
“Lola!” he yelled after me, I ran inside but his next words chased me down, “you’re all I got left.”
He left me at home the next day when he went to service Jake’s yard.
I wasn’t surprised.
I watched from the kitchen window as his beat up Silverado truck lumbered out of the yard. I turned and faced the living room. I grimaced, cobwebs grew like tiny ropes of moss on the ceiling fan in the living room.
I plucked a damp rag from the sink and grabbed a wooden stool from around the counter. I plopped the stool down underneath the fan.
I stepped up onto it, reached for the closest blade and missed. I wobbled, arms extended, I veered to one side, “sheeeit-”
“Get down!” snapped a firm voice right behind me.
I gasped and toppled backwards. I screamed with rage as I fell but it was abruptly cut off as strong arms I was coming to know too well snatched me out of midair. I latched onto him because I had to. Not doing so meant I’d become a little too acquainted with the floor.
I reared up to glare into his green eyes, “Dammit Jake, stop sneaking up on me!”
Instead of some flippant comment, he did something I hadn’t expected. He tucked my face against his chest. His heartbeat thundered in my ears.
My anger disappeared. He’d been frightened for me. I relaxed against him. Moments passed, then slowly he pulled away to look into my face. He placed me carefully on my legs and stepped back. My knees felt weak as the ground came under them once more.
His cheeks held a delicate blush, his eyes were soft with remorse.
“My timing is crap. I know.” his mouth thinned, his eyes were guarded, “do you want me to leave?”
I decided to mess with him. I tapped a finger against my chin, “breaking and entering is a crime. Perhaps I should call the-”
“Don’t!” his shout ricocheted across my living room with its saggy brown couch and an ancient TV that sported an antenna that looked like a fossil.
Startled I managed not to flinch, I searched his eyes and saw the shadows that made their green depths dark and murky, “Lighten up,” I said quietly, “ I was just kidding.”
He gave me a stiff nod and looked about the room.
But I couldn’t keep my mouth shut, “so why did you break into my house?”
He shrugged, shot a glance at the ceiling fan, then back to me, “to stop you from breaking your neck.”
“Ah, how sweet.”
His eyes turned cold, “I’m not sweet.”
I guffawed, “Oh I never thought you were, perhaps a stalker, definitely a burglar but s
weet. Nope.”
His gaze fell a few inches down my face, “I bet your mouth is sweet,” his eyes cold one second was once again hot and clear.
Heat flared inside my chest, sending tiny sparks of warmth flooding outwards that tickled my fingertips. I cleared my throat loudly, “let’s not think about how my mouth tastes, okay?”
His thick brows knitted, his hands came up. I hastily stepped back out of their long reach, he smiled a slow pull of his lips, “you’re afraid of me again.”
“Ya think!” I burst out, glad to latch onto something other than his chiseled lips, “you broke into my house!”
“You knew I’d come.”
I was about to dispute it when water squirted between my fingers, I looked down at the washcloth I was absently mangling. A thought struck. I held it out to him, “now that you’re here, I’m gonna put you to work.”
He shrugged, took the cloth from my hand, “anything you want,” his eyes gleamed at the double entendre.
He stepped up onto the stool. The stool wobbled under his large frame.
Worried I reached up to him, “maybe I should do this, I’m not sure the stool can hold you.”
He frowned at me, “sweetheart I build things for a living, this stool is much stronger than you think.”
It was the first time he’d spoken about a job.
I stepped back, “Wow. For a moment there I thought you were just living off daddy’s money and off-roading in your free time.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, I froze. Oh shit. But I refused to take it back.
His hand stilled on the fan blade for a moment, but then he continued as if I hadn’t just insulted him.
He came down off the stool with measured, careful steps.
I swallowed and waited for the backlash.
But he wasn’t pissed. His face was curious, though I could see the wheels turning in the back of his eyes.
He cocked his head, “Yeah, did that a few years ago.”
I chewed my bottom lip, watched him from under my lashes, “you’re not pissed?”
He shrugged and the muscles of his broad shoulders rippled beneath the thin cotton of his white tee, “why should I be?” he ask softly.
I winced, “cause I just insulted you and I meant too?” I squeaked.
His green eyes lit up with challenge, a grin lifted the corners of his mobile mouth, “why don’t you come and check out what I do for a living?”
“Oh?” Was this a ploy to get back at me?
“Yep,” he affirmed, his shoulders relaxed, his body confident.
“Ok,” I agreed hesitantly.
He grinned, “How about tomorrow? I’ve got a job over in the next town, Fort Hood, I can pick you up at 6.”
“P.M.?” I queried sensing a trap opening beneath my feet.
His grin widened into a toothy snarl, “A.M.,” his eyes glittered with payback.
“You bastard,” I gritted out.
He laughed, a husky rumble that heated my cheeks and made me feel warm all over.
Thoroughly outmaneuvered, I tried to ignore him and began to chew my thumbnail at the more alarming thought of how I was going to see him without my dad knowing.
I looked hopefully at him, “can you meet me at Dez Hammond’s house?”
The satisfied laughter vanished from his lean face, “what is Dez to you?” his voice dropped to a menacing growl.
There was no denying the uncivilized spark in his green eyes. Jealousy.
I smirked, it was my turn to bask in his discomfort. I took several seconds before answering, “Dez is my best friend.”
He grunted and studied my smug smile, “you like screwing with me don’t you?”
I flashed a swift grin, “yep,” I purred. I didn’t care of what he could think of my answer.
He eyes became hooded, they gleamed with secret pleasure, “I will warn you just this once, we’re gonna be much more than friends.”
A minute later he was gone.
I rushed towards the kitchen counter and snatched up the phone.
Chapter five
“I’m gonna spend tonight at Dez’s.”
My dad grunted around a mouthful of the bison burgers I’d made for dinner.
I slid into my seat apposite him and rambled quickly on, “I need to help him with the fence early tomorrow morning.”
He studied me carefully through narrowed eyes and continued to chew, he swallowed, “You and Dez fooling around?”
No! I almost denied it before it hit me. My dad’s eyes were calm, uncaring. It hit me. This was what he wanted for me. Dez. He was more on my social scale.
I fumed but quickly dropped my eyes to my plate so he wouldn’t see. I ignored the mandarin and arugula salad which covered half my plate, “It’s not like that between us.”
He grunted and scraped back his chair. He picked up the telephone on the kitchen counter, “Let’s find out from Dez?” The conversation lasted ten seconds.
He came back to the table and reached for his half eaten burger. He didn’t speak to me again that night but whenever I looked up I could feel his eyes on me. I walked over to Dez’s after dinner.
I entered Dez’s yard soundlessly.
He met me at the door, a blast of light from inside his living room blinded me for a second. Lorde’s “Royals,” streamed loudly from his laptop on the brown coffee table.
I drop my overnight bag on the floor and slumped down onto the couch. Contented I bobbed my head to the awesome tune.
Dez scowled ferociously at me, “I ain’t lying for you again.”
I smiled dreamily up at him, “isn’t that what BFF’s are for?”
He made a disgusted sound in his throat, his eyes snapped, “No Lola, friends have each other’s back and when they’re fucking up they tell them!” He stared pointedly at me.
I dissolved into laughter. Dez lecturing me about screwing up was indeed a turnabout.
Dez had been a true thug on the streets of Denver before three gunshot wounds convinced him it was enough.
He’d turned up in our sleepy town months later. That had been three years ago. We’d been friends pretty much the entire time.
I swallowed the last of my chuckles, waved a reassuring hand at him, “Chill out, jeez. I will actually be sleeping here tonight.”
Dez wasn’t satisfied, “Until he comes for you?” he spat.
“Yes!” I glared at him, “he’s coming tomorrow morning to pick me up.”
I broke away from Dez’s glowering face and looked on the coffee table. I frowned. Dez usually had a bag of chips and salsa on hand, “where’s the food?”
He didn’t answer. I ignored him and got up. Went to the kitchen and opened the white Fridge. I pulled out the required items.
He was behind me, hands crossed stubbornly over his heavily muscled chest, “Lola you’re playing with fire.”
I jiggled the jar of hot salsa at him, “you’re right this is too hot, get medium next time.”
“I’m not kidding,” he pushed on, stalking me as I went back to the couch. I shoved a loaded chip into my mouth.
He sat opposite me. Reached across and snatched a handful of chips, drowned them in salsa and crammed them home.
“He just wants to test something new, that’s all.”
I forced down my last bite, pushed the plate away and turned to him.
He saw my face and winced, “Ah Lola, I ain’t trying to hurt your feelings.”
“Yes you are!”
He raked a hand over his face and groaned, “I’m protecting you!” his dark eyes stormed with frustration, “your dad’s right. He’s bad news.”
A scream tore from my throat. I surged to my feet and dove for my overnight bag. I charged towards the exit.
“Lola!” Dez was right behind me.
“Screw you!” I raged as I stormed out into the night.
He caught up with me at his half down wooden front gate, “Stop,” he cried out of breath.
I whir
led around, stabbed a finger into his thick chest, “I’m eighteen years old,” I screeched into his worried face, “what I do is nobody’s business.”
Dez’s hands flew up in surrender, “Okay, shit, I get it!”
Stubbornly I remained rooted to the spot, my breath coming in spurts.
He let go a deep breath and grabbed the overnight bag out of my clenched fists, “Now you’ve gotten that out please get your ass back inside, it’s freakin cold out here!” He stomped towards the house.
Early the next morning I found myself seated awkwardly beside Jake in his muddy wrangler. He’d arrived at 6 a.m. on the dot.
The jeep bumped and grinded its way down the county road over depressions the size of black holes.
I fidgeted and was glad that he’d think the jarring ride was the reason. In front of me the sky was still purple from its nighttime slumber. The air was fresh and brisk on my cheeks.
“Cold?” his amused tone cut right into my thoughts.
“No,” I said too firmly.
A disbelieving brow arched up, “those are delicious apples on your cheeks.”
Busted. I scrubbed at my cheeks, refuse to acknowledge the glimmer in his eyes, “If I need something I’ll ask, okay?”
He chuckled, a warm, deep rumble that drowned out the muted roar of the wrangler’s engine. He flicked me a look, “I’m pretty sure I’ve got something you want.”
Thoroughly ticked off, I gave him the side-eye, “yeah? What?”
With a sharp motion, he pulled off to the side of the grassy shoulder.
He got out and went around to the back of the jeep. Moments later he reappeared at my side, a brown, woolen blanket in hand.
He didn’t even bother to ask permission, he started to tuck the thick blanket around my legs.
I trembled at the first touch of the rough softness of the blanket. The hairs on it were fine in spots, scratchy in others. It scraped over my bare legs. I held still and held my breath determined to ignore the sleek mat of his head bent down in front of my legs. His hands moved swiftly, yet he touched every exposed inch of flesh.