Dude Interrupted (G-Man Next Generation Book 2)

by ANDREA SMITH

  “Eighteen. Nineteen in December,” I said.

  “Really? You must have a fake I.D.,” she replied, giggling. “I had to do the same thing. I guess we’re both bad, huh?”

  “Yeah. No shit.”

  “Do you smoke weed?”

  “Been known to.”

  “Wanna go burn one? I have some joints here, too. Where’s your car?”

  “D.C. Long story.”

  “Come on, then. Mine’s parked in the back. I can give you a ride home if you want.”

  “How fucked up are you?” I asked.

  She tossed me her keys. “You drive. Let’s go to your place and party,” she purred. “I think I like you, Bryce Slater.”

  Before I got into the driver’s seat of Lacy’s Jeep, I sent off a quick text to Marvin, letting him know I had a ride home.

  Chapter 8

  Bryce

  The sunshine was blazing between the not-quite-closed slats of the mini-blinds on my bedroom window, and the whirring sound of the window air conditioner, both worked to wake me the following morning.

  I stretched and flexed my arms. A lazy yawn escaped, before I noticed the splay of long blonde hair on the pillow next to mine.

  Shit.

  I rubbed my stubbled jaw, ran a hand through my disheveled hair, and collected my thoughts in order to recall, with some amount of clarity, what the fuck had happened last night.

  Went to the bar with Marvin.

  Drank a couple of beers.

  Played some pool.

  Assumed the role of rescuer to a chick named Lacy, who was totally dissed by a dude named Nick at the bar.

  Drove Lacy’s car; bought some whiskey with my fake I.D.

  Came back here. Smoked a couple of doobies and drank some shots–with Lacy.

  Got wasted.

  Fucked Lacy.

  Oh. shit.

  I glanced quickly over to the nightstand, and exhaled a sigh of relief when I saw the condom wrappers there. Thank fuck I hadn’t been too shit-faced that I forgot the rubbers. After that whole ordeal with Mandy, I’d been very particular about the quality of condoms I now carried. Even bought them at drug stores now instead of Men’s Room vending machines.

  I climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom to take a leak, rinse my face, and brush the morning mouth away. I gargled for good measure. Whiskey could do a job on your breath.

  When I came out of the bathroom, Lacy was awake, one arm folded up so that her chin rested on her fist, and she was gazing at me in a way that looked like she wanted to devour me.

  Wasn’t happening.

  Of course, it might’ve been to my advantage to have slid my boxers on, but hell, I wasn’t used to having an audience in my bedroom in the mornings.

  “Come back to bed, Bryce,” she ordered softly. “I want some more of that. You are so freaking good,” she finished huskily. “So much better than Nick ever thought about being.”

  Give me a break.

  I grabbed my boxers from the floor and pulled them on. “Nope. Not happening, Darlin’. It shouldn’t have happened last night. It isn’t cool for me to step all over another dude like that.”

  “What?” she snapped, “Are you serious, Bryce? First off, you heard Nick. There’s nothing between us. And secondly, it sure as hell didn’t bother you last night. In fact, it didn’t bother you twice,” she hissed, tossing the covers back, putting her nakedness on full display.

  I watched as she grabbed her clothes and traipsed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

  Chicks and their emotions. Such a fucking waste of energy.

  I went into the kitchen and put some coffee on. By the time the first cup had brewed, Lacy was out of the bathroom and in front of my face.

  “I suppose your whole sympathy routine was nothing more than a ploy to get into my pants,” she halfway shouted, her eyes bugging outta their sockets.

  “Coffee?” I asked, offering her the first mug.

  “Answer me, dammit!”

  And now I was pissed. I didn’t do drama. Never had. Never planned to. “Hey Lacy,” I replied, taking a sip of the coffee she’d refused, “I don’t think a dude necessarily needs a ploy to get into your panties, babe.”

  Maybe it was the calmness with which I said it, or possibly it was the way I’d made the word babe pop at the end, but whatever it was, it made her go totally fucking ballistic.

  “You rotten motherfucker! Go to hell!”

  She slammed out of my cottage with a hearty bang. I could hear her running her mouth damn near until she reached the steps that led down to the barn and parking area. Guess she was fairly pissed.

  I’d finished my first mug of coffee and had the second one brewing while I went to my room and pulled on a pair of clean blue jeans. As I headed back to the kitchen, I heard somebody knocking on my front door.

  Jesus Christ.

  I hoped to hell it wasn’t Lacy back wanting to chew more of my ass. “Hold on!” I called out, pulling a clean tee over my head.

  When I threw open the door, and looked through the screen, I quickly saw it wasn’t Lacy, but the chick standing there looked every bit as pissed.

  “Morning, Avery,” I said, holding open the screen door so that she could come inside.

  She stepped inside quickly, and crossed her arms, taking on that superior stance she so liked using with me. “What the hell is going on here, Slater?” she asked. “Lacy Rankin damn near ran me over with her Jeep while she was laying rubber out of the drive. I don’t know why, but something just told me you might know something about that.”

  “How the hell should I know why she might want to run you down, Little Bit? She’s pissed at me, not you.”

  “I knew it had to be something involving you,” she replied with an all-knowing nod. “And what, pray tell, did you do to her?”

  I went into the kitchen to get my fresh mug of coffee. Being the well-mannered dude I was, I offered it to her.

  “No thanks. I’m waiting, Slater.”

  I took a sip, and then presented her with my most panty-melting smile, even though I was so damn tired of the whole topic of Lacy whomever. “Hey, Avery, I’m not one to kiss and tell, know what I mean? In other words, it’s really none of your business. I may work for you, but outside of that, you don’t pull my strings when I’m off the clock, got it?”

  I knew as soon as the words were out of my mouth she wasn’t going to be happy with them. I may have totally underestimated just how much though.

  “Listen here, Buddy,” she snapped, “What goes on here, on this property, is most certainly my business. I’ve been entrusted by my grandparents to make sure that the employees, the visitors, and even the animals are kept safe. When I see somebody driving recklessly on this property, and nearly running me over on said property, I have an obligation to see what further risk there is for more of the same.”

  “Oh please,” I muttered, “You’re just being nosy. So, here it is. Yeah, Lacy stayed over. We fucked. Twice from what she told me this morning. Now is there some rule, Ms. Sinclair, about the hired help here not permitted to have overnight guests? Or a sex life? Because if there is, you should’ve made that clear on that Cottage Rules sheet that’s hanging on the back of the door over there,” I finished, nodding towards the front door.

  “You are simply… insufferable,” she snapped. “Give me a freaking break, Slater. I don’t give a darn about your sex life. What I do care about is that visitors, who are here on this property at your consent or invitation, behave appropriately, and in a manner that poses no risk for the others. Do you understand?”

  Her eyes had darkened from amber to milk chocolate. That actually kind of fascinated me to be honest, and it delayed my response.

  “Well?”

  “Oh, yeah. I get it. No probs.”

  “Good. And you will pass that on to your girlfriend, Lacy?”

  Now she was just baiting me. I gave her
a smirk. “No need. She won’t be back,” I replied, tossing her a wink.

  She turned on her heel and headed towards the door, tossing out a parting shot, “Well, it appears Lacy Rankin has more sense than I ever gave her credit.”

  “Who’s Preston?” I asked. That stopped her at the door.

  “My older sister, why?”

  I shrugged and took another sip of my coffee. “Lacy mentioned her that’s all. Said you and Preston were bitches. Thought the twins were chill though. They your sisters, too?”

  “My cousins,” she ground out before she slammed outta my cottage, the door banging shut behind her.

  I released a sigh. “Not sure if that door is gonna survive the summer,” I mumbled to no one.

  Chapter 9

  “Anything worth doing well is worth doing poorly at first.” - Ray Congdon

  Bryce

  It was the 4th of July weekend, and I’d been here for a month. Apparently, this was one of the biggest weekends of the season for the track, and I’d been working over there for the past week, getting all the red, white, and blue banners hung; putting American flags around all the flower beds and along both sides of the horse track.

  I’d gotten to observe Avery several times while I’d been working in the inside arena where she and her cousin, Hannah, gave lessons called dressage.

  I hadn’t wanted to come across as ignorant about what exactly dressage was, I knew it was a certain brand of riding, but damn, once I saw the full extent of it, I realized it was much more than that.

  I could tell that Avery was an expert. Hannah was pretty damn good too, but Avery seemed to handle her horse seamlessly every time.

  I was over hanging flags on the bleachers in the arena when I got distracted by Avery giving a girl a private lesson. The girl looked to be about twelve or thirteen, and she wasn’t having much luck getting her horse to do the steps required in the routine. Avery had an inordinate amount of patience it seemed, as long as she wasn’t dealing with me.

  “Rachel,” Avery said, “I’ve got an idea on how to help you with the problems you’ve been having in executing the half halt with Rebel. You know, it’s something my own mother showed me. I bet it’ll work with you.”

  “Okay, Avery,” Rachel replied, her frustration evident, “I’ll try anything at this point. I need to get our routine down before the exhibition.”

  “No worries,” Avery said, “Dismount for a moment.”

  Rachel dismounted, and as soon as she did, Avery mounted the horse, and then reached her hand down, pulling the girl up behind her in the saddle.

  “Now,” Avery said, “I think it might be easier if I show you how the half halt is properly executed. To the naked eye, it looks as if the rider applies all three aids at the same time. However, if we could freeze-frame it, you’d actually see that the aids are applied separately, in sequence. We’ll go through this a few times so you can feel what your body is supposed to do in conjunction with what the horse is doing, okay?”

  “Sure,” Rachel said, nodding.

  “So, I want you to rest each of your hands on the outside of each of my thighs, as close to the back of my knees as possible.”

  The girl did as instructed.

  “Now, remember what we talked about earlier? There is no ‘halt’ in the half halt. That’s a misnomer. Every half halt should contain what?” Avery asked.

  “The surge?” Rachel replied.

  “Correct,” Avery said. “It will contain the surge, the drive, and the energy from Rebel’s hind legs, just as if you were asking for a medium gait or a lengthening.”

  “Got it,” she responded. “But we don’t want him breaking into the medium gait, until after the surge, correct?”

  “Absolutely,” Avery agreed, “Because we know that we always ride the horse from back to front, which is what the surge guarantees.”

  Avery started Rebel into the routine. The girl placed her hands on the outside of Avery’s thighs as instructed.

  “Now, if we’re lucky, you’ll be able to feel my calves close first. It will be a steady squeeze for three seconds, just before the surge. Here we go.”

  I stopped what I was doing to watch as Avery and her student went through the motions three times and, like clockwork, when Avery would close her calves with a steady squeeze, a few seconds later, the horse would flex and the hind legs would propel in a straight gait.

  “Oh my gosh, yes I can feel it,” Rachel said loudly. “Let me try!”

  Avery dismounted, handing the reins to Rachel who immediately got the horse into motion. The second time around, the girl had the horse doing the half halt or whatever the hell it was called. Avery high-fived the girl on her next time around the arena. It was then she caught me watching them.

  Her face flushed as I gave her a thumbs up and nodded. “Nice job, Avery. You know your stuff no doubt. I’m impressed.”

  Avery came up to where I was standing. “Do you ride?” she asked.

  “I have a couple of times, but only for fun. Never knew how technical this shit was,” I admitted. “But you know what? I enjoy the work and diligence that goes into it. I’d never sell it short that’s for sure.”

  “Thanks, Bryce.”

  I smiled and got back to work. Avery went back down and mounted her horse to continue with her lesson.

  And it dawned on me that she’d called me Bryce. Maybe for the first time; hopefully not the last. I kinda liked the way it sounded coming from her.

  Thankfully, I didn’t have to work any of the 4th of July activities. Neither did Marvin. In fact, poor Marvin had gotten into it in a text fight with his girlfriend. He was pissed because she blew him off for the whole holiday weekend to hang with her girlfriends at some big party in Myrtle Beach.

  So, we did what any normal, hot-blooded, unencumbered dudes would do: got drunk, got laid, and took no names or numbers.

  Boom!

  But to be honest, it wasn’t all that much fun. That same night, after we got back to Camp Horsey Horse, Marvin felt so damn guilty, he puked a couple of times, called his girlfriend, Heather, confessed all he’d done, and then went to his cottage to cry in his suds and pass out.

  The following day was July 4th. I got up around noon and grabbed a bath. I wanted nothing more than to wash the smell of sex from my body. I made a note to grab another box of condoms the next time I made a trip to the general store.

  My hair was still damp from my bath, and I’d pulled on a pair of jeans and nothing else as I decided I needed to get something into my stomach. I dropped a couple of Pop Tarts into the toaster, grabbed some orange juice from the fridge, and was drinking it straight from the carton, when a loud pounding at my front door stopped me mid-swallow.

  Holy shit–what now?

  I sauntered out to the living area and peeked through the blinds on the front window to see who the hell was beating down my door. It was Hannah Sinclair. Avery’s cousin.

  Hopefully, she had the wrong cottage. Like I said, I didn’t do drama. And as I walked over to the front door, I couldn’t think of a damn thing I could’ve done to piss off Hannah. Unlike Avery, Hannah seemed soft and sweet. Not nearly as outspoken as her cousin.

  I opened the door, “Hey Hannah—”

  “Don’t you Hey Hannah me, you big jerk,” she snapped angrily, pushing her way past me.

  “Yeah, come on in,” I deadpanned, shutting the door and turning to look over at her. She was definitely pissed, but I was clueless as to why so I waited for her to lay it on me.

  “You’ve got one helluva lot of nerve, Bryce! Heather was blowing up my phone all night long, crying and beside herself because of you!”

  “Wait. What? Who?” I asked, still clueless. “What the hell are you yapping about, girl?”

  She placed one hand on her hip, the other one she waved around, her index finger jabbing at the air between us. “I’m talking about Marvin’s girlfriend, Heather? Yeah, she was totally gutted
when Marvin called her and told her exactly what went down. You should be ashamed of yourself, Bryce!”

  “Whoa, wait one minute there, what’s with the ‘I should be ashamed of myself’ bit? As far as I know, Marvin’s a big boy. I don’t tell him what to do. Dude’s got a mind of his own, don’t put that shit on me.”

  “Oh come on! Everybody in town knows you as ‘Bristol’s Newest Party Boy.’ Your reputation precedes you. It’s nothing to be proud of, Bryce. It’s not impressive at all. Especially to the female gender. You can’t continue using people and not giving a shit about their feelings, without it eventually coming back on you. And you know damn well if it hadn’t been for your need to be a party boy, Marvin wouldn’t have been influenced by your reckless behavior!”

  Now it was my turn to put her ass in its place.

  “Hannah, this isn’t a conversation you should even be having with me. This is not your business. But for the record, if I’ve used anyone, it wasn’t without them wanting to be used. And just so you’re clear on it, I didn’t come to Podunk, Virginia to win some damn popularity contest. Do you actually think I had a choice in the matter? I had no choice. And I don’t give a flying fuck if you’re impressed or disgusted by what I do, cause like I said, it’s none of your damn business!”

  It was silent for a few moments while she digested my words. She was calm, and a bit reflective from what I could tell. “You know, I give Avery a lot of credit. She sees a helluva lot more potential in you than I do, that’s for sure. But let me say this. Whatever issues brought you here are no excuse for treating people as if they don’t matter.”

  She turned and left my cottage. And for once, the door wasn’t slammed with a female’s departure.

  Chapter 10

  Avery

  Three weeks later…

  Bryce Slater had been extremely quiet for the past few weeks. Unusually quiet–almost withdrawn, but he hadn’t slacked one bit in his duties, so I had no reason to inquire about his attitude.