Vonnie: Book Two of Broken Girls Series

by J. A. Hornbuckle

  What the hell?

  I sat up, glaring at my closed bedroom door. Since Phoebe moved out, I tried to keep one eye on the doings both within and without my building, as well as anyone who might consider a single female all alone and by herself their twisted idea of fun. Life had taught me not to appear vulnerable in any way, shape or form. Although the ‘at home’ variety of me wasn’t much different than the one I presented in public.

  The truth of it was…I was prickly, proud and had the skills to take someone down twice my size. I didn’t suffer fools gladly nor did I put up with ass-hats who liked to mess or screw with those of my gender.

  And I’d made sure the college boys in the condo next door recognized it during our last go-round.

  But the heavy-handed thuds continued, despite my saucy sneer, leading me to believe whoever thought to bang against my front door wasn’t a part of my social circle. This meant they’d get either a half- assed smile, offered scathingly up through two thick walls between my bed and door. Or the rough side of my tongue as payment for waking me up in the middle of the night.

  Either way though, I needed to haul myself out of bed to answer the mother-effing pounding on my door. A trek that found me stomping my way down the hall, in order to discover just who in the fucking hell felt the need to bang for my attention so damn early.

  Throwing open the door, even as I reached for the hem of my sleep shorts, I was already yelling at whoever dared wake me so early. “You better have a goddamned good reason to…”

  My voice died in my throat as my glare hit the middle of a chest—a very broad and muscled one, if the way his black t-shirt clinging to him was any indication. And without volition, my eyes kept going up, as in way up to meet a pair of thickly lashed dark eyes which were sparking a fierce glower of their own.

  As we stood there, swapping intense, narrowed eyed stares my brain whispered, you know this guy switching my attention from him to what my mind was trying to tell me (which without the aid of caffeine so soon after waking was almost an impossibility for me). Wait…his name was something exotic and started with an ‘R’. But how did I know that?

  “You always open the door without checking who it is first?” His voice was a deep growl and when combined with his frown was kinda intimidating. But I wasn’t gonna let him see it. Instead I looked to the little fluffy dog in his arms who was eyeing me with curiosity. However, I made a point of not answering him, as if by not responding the ass-hat would realize his bad manners in berating me before giving a normal, socially acceptable greeting.

  Obviously my little nonverbal lesson in manners went right the hell over his head. “Are you Veronica James?”

  What was his name? Rico? Reynaldo? Gosh, it was right on the tip of my tongue but just out of reach of my sleepy brain and since I was already pissed off, the fact I couldn’t readily access it slid me over into the mad arena.

  Ricardo? Raymundo?

  Then it clicked and a full memory of him and his dog came up in full detail.

  He was the guy from the Surly’s parking lot. The total dick who’d I’d offered a ride then was berated for thinking to drive him and his buddy after I’d had a couple (or a few, take your pick) drinks during an especially terrific Girl’s Night Out with my sisters. My mouth engaged before I could even think up one full sentence in the whirlwind of anger flaring over me. “You’re the piece of shit that cost me thirty-five bucks!”

  I took heart the dickhead had the grace to blink at my accusation; the one I’d offered with the bonus of my forefinger pointing his way, within millimeters of actually touching him. “Said I shouldn’t drive because I’d been drinking. Arguing to the point me and Beta ended up taking a taxi home. And it must be said, my girl didn’t have any additional cash with which to pay for her portion.”

  He blinked again and I felt a tingle in my girly parts as his thick, black lashes descended, giving his face a softer expression.

  Yet causing my mind to yell a big, ole, ‘what the hell?’ I mean, how can a girl both ride a mad-on while getting turned-on at the same time? Right then and there, I decided the big, beautiful behemoth was the devil incarnate and twice as tempting.

  His little fur-baby, so comfortably ensconced in his arms emitted a soft ‘arf’ and wagged her tail while staring my way, like she was arguing against my summation of her owner.

  “Are you or are you not Veronica James?” Shit. He even had a sex-on-legs kind of voice. One of those masculine, deep-throated, just-shy-of-Barry-White’s kind of growling erotic bass to the point I had to grab at the edge of the door to prevent myself from sinking to a puddle at his feet.

  Swallowing thickly I nodded, my eyes on his pooch. The dog was a safe place to rest my gaze, the very best place to look since she was a cutie and much less dangerous than the overwhelming hottie who held her.

  “Is that a ‘yes, you are’ or a ‘yes’ to let me know you heard me?” God, the beautiful bastard just couldn’t shut up while I couldn’t squeak out a goddamn syllable.

  I took in a lungful of air and the best part of it was…he let me. He gave me his silence as I tried to find the words to reply (read: berate him) even as my caffeine-deprived brain provided the name that’d eluded me. And with his waiting, the very stillness he held told me a lot about who he was and what he was about.

  Rio. That was his name!

  “Yeah,” I managed to blurt on a high note as I pushed back the longer portion of my bangs so I could look at him directly again. This was a mistake because his stare was even more arousing than his voice. “I’m Vonnie.”

  His eyes followed my fingers as they combed through the longer portion my short hair. “When I met you, you had purple streaks. I liked them better than this green.”

  Christ on a cracker. Seriously?

  My hair is a natural red. Not deep like in the auburn range, but strawberry…as in red, red. And I color it in streaks. In all sorts of different streaks depending on my mood. And will freely admit I do it in order to ensure I don’t look anything like the masses. Like one of the societal herd members that so permeates Grantham.

  Or, as I often announce to those few in my inner circle, “I don’t moo on cue either by appearance, word or deed”.

  Since Mrs. Baines opened her door and peeked around its corner from across our shared forecourt, I felt the need to pull the man…erm, Rio…inside as fast as possible (by his steely forearm), though I probably should’ve done it a lot sooner in the conversation. Especially because the beat of the music from the boys next door started up again.

  Throwing my door wide in an unspoken, ‘I don’t know you and therefore don’t trust you’ gesture, I yanked and he yielded. “You coming in or what?”

  As soon as his large physique cleared the tiny space of what I’d ambitiously named as ‘my foyer’, I made haste to close the door, securing the double dead-bolts I’d had installed. Turning back to where he stood, I saw his chin move as he took in my space. But I already knew what he would see.

  Lots of bookshelves surrounding a large TV, a couch separating the space with a round coffee table. One large, wide-seated cushy chair backed up against the windows leading to the small square of my backyard. Not a lot of space in the whole of it, but definitely, infinitely loved and furnished in a way that was comfortable to me.

  But I might’ve even sounded the littlest bit of prissily abrupt after I slammed the door, closed and locked up. “Why are you here?”

  “For PK. My dog. Who only seems to answer to ‘Pookie’, which was my aunt’s name for her.” I whipped around to see him filling up most of my small living room which, on any normal day, was the perfect size for me. But with his big bulk in it? Yeah, it felt a hell of a lot tinier. “Mrs. Milliken made the reservation.”

  Crap, shit and oh god.

  He and his pooch were to be my first clients of the dog-sitting business Diane’d encouraged me to start. I was already involved in web-site design and photography, but that work didn’t always provide a steady
paycheck. So my former foster-mother, knowing my predilection for canines, suggested I open a doggie day-care.

  “I don’t think I can watch her,” I announced, after I thought I’d successfully hidden my incredulousness at his proclamation. Only realizing I had my hands on my hips, one foot turned to the side in the feminine ‘oh hell to the no, you don’t’ challenging stance.

  Subtle, I wasn’t.

  A few moments passed as we glared at each other over a distance of four feet in the quiet of the room.

  “Why?” It was my turn to blink because his question caught me off-guard. “You’re a dog-sitter and she’s a dog, one of the sweet varieties. So why won’t you take care of her? I made an appointment, albeit through a third party, but you said you’d take the job.”

  I had, which was the goddamn hell of it.

  “It’s only a couple of days, but if you two get along I’ll use you as her go-to girl when I’m at work or otherwise occupied.” The mesmerizing sweep of his thick, dark eyelashes again held me enthralled as he gave another deep blink. “I need you, Miss James. And you are a Miss, right? No husband or significant other around?”

  Oh fuck, what was it was about him that made my knees loosen to the point I had to grip the edge of the sofa this time in order to stay upright? I forced my eyes to the bit of fluff in his arms. And immediately my heart stilled. “Yeah, I’m single.”

  But after declaring my non-marital status, I felt kinda embarrassed, as if exposing too much to the man in front of me. And dropped my eyes to Pookie, making her the center of my attention. Since she was gonna, you know be my responsibility for a while. A job I found myself looking forward to, if you want to know the truth.

  “You wanna stay with me, honey?” Shit, whose voice uttered those words and in such a soft, welcoming tone? But I must’ve said the right thing because the tiny canine’s butt quivered in delight as her tail took up a speedy cadence.

  And I watched as a huge hand, one meant more for war than giving caresses to a fur-baby in comfort, threaded itself into her caramel and white fur. “I think she likes you.”

  “Yeah, so…” I replied, tightening my crossed arms on my chest to cover my erect nipples his gesture to his dog created, trying to deny it was because of him and his appreciative gaze that kept landing on my mouth, my boobs, as well as my legs and (when I’d been turned around), my butt.

  “So…how long and what kind of care does your dog require?” I’d pushed my attraction for the man behind me and remained determined to keep our conversation within the realms of my new business.

  “Two days this time,” he growled without looking at me, yet not surrendering his dog to me. No, the man clutched his pooch to his chest as if I wanted to snatch her from him and run.

  But he was in my house, my space.

  “I have a list of what she can eat.” He finally looked my way. “And I expect you’ll feed her what I specify.”

  It was my turn to blink, low and slow. “If you’re that picky and are willing to pay extra for it, of course.”

  His face went to the little fluff-ball in his arms and I saw his expression change, morphing into something soft and what I read as almost tender. “She’s important to me, Vons.”

  I could see as well as sense his sincerity. “Yeah, I get it, Ree.”

  His chin lifted my way as his eyebrows shot down and together. “Don’t call me that!”

  “You called me Vons, isn’t it okay to shorten your name too?”

  Rio inhaled and then exhaled on such a long sigh I was sure I was gonna be fired even before I’d begun to take care of the tiny dog he obviously valued above any sort of human, bi-pedaled sort of being. “Call me anything. But for fuck’s sake, don’t call me Ree, okay?”

  I stared at him, seeing something in the back of his dark, brown eyes roil and seethe. Okay, then. “I won’t. Not ever again.” I dragged my fingers over the left side of my chest, marking an ‘X’ over my tank top in the vicinity of what I thought was my heart. “I promise, Rio.”

  In that moment, there in my foyer with one of God’s own hunka-hunka, burning pieces of male flesh, I knew I had to set my normal brand of ‘bitch’ aside. Not only for him and not just for the pretty dog he carried.

  But for me.

  For my own value. Because somehow and in some way, this dude’s opinion was important.

  So, much against my will I stepped around him coming to rest a couple feet closer to the kitchen, but facing him, I took a chance in gazing up directly into his deep, dark expressive brown eyes. “Can I hold her?”

  There were a few of seconds of heavy beats, containing of a shitload of nonverbal stuff passing between us as our gazes caught and held. Some I could identify even, but most of which remained a mystery.

  “Here,” he groused in a rough voice, shoving the tiny dog my way. Squiggling and squirming, I was hard-pressed to capture her between my palms with enough force to ensure I didn’t drop her in his unexpected move. “She’s affectionate and likes to be scratched.”

  So noted.

  Catching the little canine underneath her front legs with a palm to her backside, I brought her up until we were face-to-face. “We’re gonna be good friends, aren’t we, girl?”

  Her tail wagging should’ve been a clue, but it was the way she tried to lick my cheeks, my mouth which was the real indication she approved of me. “We’ll be fine, Rio.”

  “I’ll be gone two days,” he started before shifting his attention to the bags he’d slung like bandoliers over his chest. “I brought everything she’ll need to feel at home while I’m away.”

  Erm…

  “All but her food, but there are instructions for what kind and how it needs to be prepared—”

  “Dude!” Seriously? The man looked like he could chew up and kill any kind of danger for breakfast and here he was schlepping bags to cater to the needs of the canine, fluff-girl who obviously held his interest and concern? “I think I can figure the rest out for myself.”

  Rio removed the different soft-sided duffle bags from around his neck and held them at his sides, giving me a couple of seconds to commune with the little lady in my arms. She seemed unconcerned by her owner’s behavior, which let me know it was okay to ignore him and his attitude as well.

  “Her dietary requirements are important,” he intoned, in such a way I had to still the rolling of my eyes. “I expect you to follow my written instructions unless you’re a firm supporter of doggie gas.”

  Dragging my eyes from his dog to him and back again, I shook my head. “You aren’t a farting princess, are you? No, you’re not. Oh no, not you, sweet thing.”

  His voice was heavy with sarcasm when he finally deemed to speak. “And I abhor baby-talk. So kindly keep that shit to a minimum when talking to PK.”

  “No probs, dude,” I uttered, if only to get him out of my place at the soonest possible moment and with a minimum of fuss. “But I thought her name was Pookie.”

  “Yeah, about that. She was my aunt’s dog first. And Alma was the one who gave her that god-awful handle. I call her PK and expect you to re-enforce it while I’m gone.” As orders went, his was delivered in a commanding tone as if he honestly thought I’d obey. “Although if you find another name that she’ll come to, I’d be open to it.”

  Hell. The man who looked like something from some kind of men’s cologne advert was pleading with me to find another name for his purse-sized dog? Would wonders never cease?

  He stepped to the tiny, two seated-bar abutting my kitchen, dropping one of the canvas satchels on the top, the other on the floor.

  “Uhm…” I didn’t know how to answer, but only knew I wanted him out of my house as soon as humanly possible. “Okay. I’ll work on a name. But I need you to sign some paperwork and provide your cellphone number. And the deal was you’d pay in advance.”

  Holding my eyes, the man (…and such a man I couldn’t disregard, especially not with the way I clutched my thighs together every time he looked my way
) bent a bit and took out his wallet. Casually placing six Benjamin’s on the top of the bar, he instructed me, “Keep her safe, fed with the food I listed and train her to answer to PK.”

  He took a step forward, closing the distance between us until we were only a half a foot apart. “She’s important to me.”

  Oh yeah.

  I was getting that.

  But even more, I knew Mr. Big-Shot-I’m-All-That Rio, was into me in a way that was not solely because of his dog. And that interest was reciprocated in a major, here-to-forth unknown way.

  “Okay. I’ll take care of her as if she was my own,” I whispered, unable to peel my eyes away from his. And I swear, hand on heart, as his gaze drifted from my eyes to my lips, I got the feeling Rio wanted to kiss me at that moment.

  Something I wouldn’t have protested in the least, if I was being all honest and shit.

  But he didn’t.

  Instead he stormed to my door and gave me a commanding glower. “She better be the same dog when I get back.”

  “Only with another name, right?” Fucking hell. My mouth and head got the better of all my efforts to ensure Rio gave me my first doggie-gig. But I could save myself. “Go. We’ll be okay and I’ll send you pics and texts to let you know how she’s doing.”

  Unlatching my door locks, he yanked my door open before pausing to shoot me another glare over his powerfully built shoulder. “Betcha ass, princess. Only next time, I expect you to use the spy-hole before opening the frickin’ door, all right?”

  And with that, Rio left. With his little dog letting off a couple of soft ‘arf’s, nose pointed at the portal before looking at me with something I could only call confusion. Leaving two females behind who began to miss him and his huge presence the moment the door slammed shut.