“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll see you here Thursday.”
“You’re gonna pick me up?”
“How else are you gonna get home? Besides, I’ll be here in PCB for work.”
“Thanks,” he said, and held out his free arm. She wrapped her arm around his waist and inhaled his scent. Sure, it was partially sausage balls and outside air, but that bit that was him was there too. That earthy, man smell that she fell for every time.
She pulled away first. “Do you have any plants I need to water?”
“I have people who do that.”
“Are you serious?”
“Landscapers.”
She rolled her eyes at him, but gave him a little smile. “Bye.”
“Bye,” he said, and she could feel him standing there as she moved around the car and got in. He was still there when she pulled away, and she wondered how quickly Thursday would get there.
Shayla lay on her bed…Chase’s bed…petting Jake. She’d have to give him back soon. She’d fed Bo a line of BS about how he better not see Jake this week, because he was just going to leave him again and it’d get him all confused and make him sad all over again. Bo had glared at her, but had reluctantly relented. So she had him until Bo got back later on that week. But sooner rather than later, Bo was going to take him back.
She could get another dog, but Jake was the best dog in the world, for starters, and secondly, she couldn’t bring another dog into Chase’s home. Jake was perfect. He didn’t have accidents in the house, ever, and he was chill and quiet most the time. There was no guarantee another dog would be any one of those important things when it came to renting with the landlord steps away.
Scott wasn’t due to call for another hour, so she went ahead and called him, ready to relax, maybe try to watch a movie. She’d brought some DVDs back from her mom’s house.
“I see you haven’t changed your number yet,” he said by way of greeting.
“It’s been a busy day. I moved,” she said, and then told him about meeting Chase.
“So this guy, you say he’s a friend of Bo’s?” Scott asked.
“Yeah, a good friend.”
“Have you told him about Brian yet?”
“Not everything. I can’t run the risk of it getting back to my brother, especially not right here before his wedding. This is supposed to be the happiest time of his life. I’m a little afraid Brian is going to pull something that weekend, knowing Bo will be tied up.”
“When’s the wedding?”
“Three weeks from yesterday.”
“How would Brian even know Bo’s getting married that weekend?”
She told him about Bo coming home, stopping by her house and seeing Brian.
“I definitely get why you’re nervous,” Scott said. “I can come down for it, just to make sure Brian doesn’t try to pull something that weekend.”
“That’s not necessary, Scott.”
“I’d like to,” he said, and she got the definite feeling it wasn’t as much about protecting her as it was about seeing her. “Please, let me help.”
She winced, not sure of the right way to handle this. “I really am fine here. Chase has actually hired a security guard for this week. He’s in Vegas till Thursday.”
“He hired a security guard, for you?”
“He says he’s worried about his house getting vandalized because of some sketchy renters across the street, but I’m pretty sure that’s a white lie.”
Scott was quiet a moment. “So, I guess he’ll be around for the wedding, too.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s going to be in it.”
“He’s a…good guy?”
Shayla was pretty sure the question he was really asking was more about what her interest in him was. “Yeah. You know Bo wouldn’t be friends with him if he wasn’t.”
“Well, good. It sounds like you landed in the right place.”
She closed her eyes. She was not raised Catholic, but with the guilt she carried around with her all the time, one would think she was.
“So is the security guard there now?” Scott asked.
“Yeah, right outside, actually.”
“Is that weird? Some guy you don’t know lurking around outside your door?”
“It’s a woman, actually.”
“Oh,” he sounded surprised, and maybe a little relieved.
“She looks pretty badass. I wouldn’t mess with her.”
“Good,” he said. “Think about my offer, okay?”
She rubbed her forehead. “Scott, I hope this isn’t presumptuous to say, but I just want to make sure you know that—”
“You’re not into dating anyone now. Of course you’re not. I totally get that. I’m just sort of invested here, you know? I care about you, and I want to see this through to the end, whatever that may be. Can you get that? Besides, I haven’t been down to the panhandle in years. I could use a weekend away.”
She balanced the phone between her shoulder and her ear and pumped some lotion into her hands. “There are better weekend getaways than having to be on alert for a possible confrontation.”
“Yeah, well, I like my travel with an edge.”
She smiled. “I’ll call you tomorrow night, from my new phone.”
“Sounds good. Have a good night.”
She let the phone drop onto the bed and exhaled a deep breath, rubbing the lotion into her hands. Why couldn’t she find herself attracted to Scott? He was such a great guy. Who knew, maybe she would be if she saw him again.
The time she’d spent with him had been tainted. She met him at work the day after Brian had squeezed her arms a little too tightly. She’d blown it off, but it had bothered her. Scott had been giving a presentation to her team and bumped into her in the cafeteria afterward, asking her if he’d bored her into submission. Her mind had been elsewhere, back in her childhood with her dad when he’d been drinking. She’d offered Scott a seat, and they’d become friends. He was in the process of a divorce, and they talked about that for the next few weeks. Shayla had welcomed the distraction.
Her phone rang again, and she almost slid the bar to answer without checking the name, assuming it was Scott again, but it wasn’t. It was Brian.
She didn’t know what the right thing to do in this situation was. She didn’t want to answer it, but she did want to know what he and Bo had talked about. She also needed to let him know that it was time he start looking for somewhere else to live. This would be their last conversation.
Her stomach went sick as she swiped the call to answer. She didn’t say anything. She wasn’t in the mood for greetings.
“Shayla?” he asked, his voice sending chills down her spine.
“Yeah.”
“How are you?”
“What do you want?”
“I want to have a reasonable conversation with you.” She sat, silent. “I guess you’ve talked to Bo by now. I’m sure you saw him at Sunday dinner.”
She hated that he knew these intimate details of her life. Any time she was in PCB, she was expected at Sunday dinner and so was Bo. Hell, if Brian ever wanted to find her, that’d be where to do it. But he knew better than to come around with Bo or Dale there. If anybody thought Bo was tough, they hadn’t met Dale. Hell, that was why Bo was as ripped as he was, always competing with his big brother.
“I have,” she said.
“He just showed up, Shayla. What was I supposed to say?”
She hated it when he said her name. It was like his claim on her. “What did you say?” she asked.
“He wanted to know where the For Sale sign was. I told him the house wasn’t for sale.”
Shayla winced, imagining the confusion Bo felt at that moment, trying to balance her lie with what he could see with his own two eyes. “What else?”
“I told him I’d started drinking and you didn’t like it and asked me to go to rehab.”
She rolled her eyes. Like it was that simple. But she was grateful he hadn’t told Bo everyth
ing. If Bo had known what she had allowed to go on in that house, she’d never be able to look him in the eye again. She could barely look herself in the mirror.
“That’s it?” she asked.
“He told me about your father. Why didn’t you ever tell me about him?” Shayla rubbed on her forehead. Why did her brother have such a massive mouth? “You’re so closed off, Shayla. As long as we’ve been together, you’ve never told me your father had a drinking problem? Why wouldn’t you tell me that?”
“What would it have changed? You’d have stopped drinking? You wouldn’t have shoved me against the wall or squeezed my arms so hard you left bruises in the form of your hands?”
“I’ve told you a thousand times, I didn’t mean to do any of that. I never hurt you when I was sober. You’ve got to admit that.”
Her heartbeat raced, a tear traveling down her cheek that she fucking resented. “You forced yourself on me.”
“Don’t you dare say that. Don’t you dare fucking say I raped you.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You implied it.”
A tidal wave crested inside of her. “Well, what the fuck do you call it when someone throws you over the table and fucks you while you’re goddamn crying the whole time?”
Silence sat between them, and she was immediately regretful of her words. She’d never acknowledged his doing that aloud, never let him know how painful it was for her. She hadn’t wanted to seem weak. She’d practically talked herself into thinking she’d been okay with it because she’d chosen to take it and not to fight him on it. But fighting him would have been more pain. Fucking meant a release, an end to a buildup. And it had been. He’d pulled out of her and passed out on the couch.
“Shayla, I’m sorry, but I don’t remember anything like that.”
Her stomach soured, leaving her to be the one to feel empty and questioned, like she’d imagined it. “Well, I fucking do.”
“Okay. I’m not doubting you,” he said, exactly like he was doubting her. “I’m just wondering if you might have exaggerated some things in your memory.”
There it was. And he was so smooth about it. Not loud and accusatory but calm and rational like she was the one teetering on the edge.
“Consider yourself evicted,” she said.
“Shayla.”
“Quit fucking saying my name. It’s not yours to say anymore. I’m calling a real estate agent tomorrow.”
“Shayla, you are not kicking me out of our home.”
“It’s my home.” Her words were weak because of her ridiculous guilt. “I know you’ve paid to live there the past year and a half.”
“I wasn’t fucking renting from you. I was helping you pay this mortgage with the understanding we’d get married someday and it’d be part mine.”
She trembled as she spoke, out of her element. “I bought that house before I knew you.”
“So I’ve just been throwing my money down the toilet?”
“We’ll work something out,” she said.
“You better damn well believe we will.”
She inhaled a deep breath. “You’ve got thirty days to vacate.”
The silence pierced her ears. “It’s gonna be like that?” he asked, his voice ominous.
“Goodbye, Brian.”
“Shayla,” he said.
She slid the phone to off.
She exhaled a deep breath and ran her hands through her hair. Jake let out a sigh like he was settling in. She stroked her hand over his head. She was talking a big game, telling Brian he had thirty days to vacate. She had no idea if that was how this was done. She needed advice from someone who understood evictions and selling property with someone living there who definitely wouldn’t be tidying up for people who wanted to come look. It was possible he would tear up the place in a fit of rage, or even get drunk and fall into a glass shelf or something.
Jake rolled over so she could pet his chest and belly, and she obliged. “I think I’m going to have to ask for help, Jake.”
Chapter Ten
Chase had never had a worse time in Las Vegas. The same could not be said for the guys he’d been with. They were supposed to be there to work, and to their credit they had accomplished what they’d gone for, but there’d been way more fun than work. Chase was usually up for it, too, but not this time. He’d opted to stay at the hotel pool when the other guys had gone to the strip club. It wasn’t that he objected to seeing naked women, he could pretty much see that at the pool, but he was too old for strip clubs. Or maybe his mind was elsewhere.
Shayla stood by the door, her dark hair falling over her chest. Wearing her standard-issue Harrison Pool Supply polo shirt, khaki shorts, and tennis shoes, there wasn’t a showgirl in Vegas who could hold a candle to her.
He smiled like crazy and headed her way. He pulled her into his arms like they were a couple, not meaning to but honestly not able to help himself.
She pressed her hands against his chest and pushed him away gently, a tiny smile tugging at her lips. “Hey,” she said, with a huff of a laugh.
“Sorry,” he said, “But you have no idea how good it is to see a girl with some clothes on.”
She scratched her ear, giving him a little smile. “Mmm hmm. Did you have fun at the brothels?”
“I will pay for just about anything on the planet, but I refuse to pay a woman to have sex with me.”
“Come on. I’m in short-term parking. I couldn’t handle the stress of arriving flights.”
He followed her out the doors and into the bright Florida sunshine. “Damn, it’s good to be back home in the humidity.”
She cut her eyes at him, that smile still playing on her lips. He couldn’t be sure, but he would almost bet that she was happy to see him, which made his stomach do something weird.
“Are you still cooking me dinner tonight?” he asked.
“I was planning on it.”
“I could just take us out to dinner and let someone else cook it.”
“Aren’t you tired of eating out?”
“I never get tired of eating out.” He grinned at her and realized his double entendre. She gave him a look, and he held up a hand. “I swear to God I didn’t mean anything by that.”
“That’s too bad,” she said with a smile as they mingled with a big group of people rolling suitcases and laughing about something.
Damn. If he’d have known he was coming home to this, he’d have come home Monday.
She lengthened her stride, pulling ahead of him till they got to her car, which was actually a Harrison Pool Supply truck. “Have you been out on jobs today?” he asked, tossing his luggage in the back where he could find a spot amongst the pool equipment.
“Maya has my car. She was going to keep it until the weekend of the wedding and Felicity was going to drive Maya’s car down then, but Bo decided to haul it down behind the truck at the last minute.”
“Oh,” he said, thinking now might be a good time to mention that Felicity would be staying with him the weekend of the wedding.
“I look forward to meeting Felicity. She’s staying with you that weekend, right?” Shayla asked, glancing over at him.
“Uh, yeah,” he said, looking out the window, not sure why he was feeling guilty. He hadn’t done anything wrong.
“I think my friend Scott is coming in from Nashville for the wedding.”
He looked over at her. Who the fuck was Scott? “Oh,” he said.
“He’s not staying with me though.”
“Oh,” he said again, sounding highly intelligent. “Is he someone you’re seeing, or…”
“Just a friend,” she said.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Straight guy?”
She chuckled. “As far as I know.”
Just a friend his ass. No straight man was just friends with a woman as beautiful as Shayla Harrison. “On your part, I’m sure,” he said, against his own better judgement.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.
&n
bsp; He looked over at her. “Come on, Shayla.”
“Come on, what?” she said with a huff of a laugh.
“Nothing.”
She cut her eyes at him and then stared back at the road wordlessly. She didn’t look pissed or agitated. Just focused on the road. He’d go out of his mind if she were this girl. She was so aloof, like nothing affected her.
He shook his head at himself. She was driving him crazy, and she wasn’t even doing anything.
“I’ve got stuff to make enchiladas. Is that okay?” she asked.
“That sounds good. Thanks.”
She nodded and turned up the radio. He exhaled and looked down at his phone, trying to occupy himself. When they neared his street, she turned down the radio and said, “Do you like to car shop?”
“I think all guys like to car shop,” he said.
“I’m thinking of trading in mine for something roomier. Bo wants me more involved in sales and client relationships. I think I’m outgrowing my sports car.”
“What do you want?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. What do you suggest for that kind of thing? Something in my price range, not yours.”
He thought about it. “Let me do some research.”
“I’m not trying to put you to work.”
“Oh, no. I love it. Shopping for a new car that I don’t have to pay for…it’s like car porn.”
She put the truck in park. “I had no idea you swung that way.” She gave him a smile that swallowed his heart and then got out of the truck.
Shayla stood at the island in Chase’s kitchen, layering enchiladas into a slow cooker, smiling like an idiot. She had no idea what had gotten into her when she picked him up from the airport today. She’d not expected to flirt with him like that, but she’d been so damn happy to see him. Being at this place without him had been lonelier than she’d expected.
She’d gotten a new cell phone with a new carrier. She’d been wanting to change anyway. But she hadn’t let the other one go yet. It was just a matter of making the switch with the handful of people she talked to regularly. There was something significant about letting go of her old phone, her old life. But she was ready. She’d send out the text tomorrow, letting everyone who mattered to her know.
Seagrove Secrets (Love Along Hwy 30A) Page 10