But he had something to take care of first.
Someone left a cow head in her bed.
That wasn’t okay.
“I’ll be right back.”
The sound she made was like a hiccup and a gasp in one. He made the mistake of pausing to look at her, and before she could hide it, he saw vulnerability all over her face.
Fuck.
He gathered her in his arms, squeezing tight and reveling in the feel of her hands clutching his back.
“I’ve missed you,” she said into his chest.
His throat closed.
What did this mean?
He knew what it meant. She was scared. Basically alone. Out of her league. She was vulnerable and uncertain, and he’d kill the bastard who made her feel unsafe.
He kissed her on the head and pulled away.
He left his breath right there with her.
***
Nicholas Bonadello had the good sense to look terrified when he cracked open his door.
Rogan didn’t wait to be invited in. He pushed his way past the pathetic brute, making the guy wilt a little before he found his ego again.
“What the hell are you doing here in the middle of the night? Did that ratty car of yours finally shit the bed and you need to borrow my phone?” Nicholas grinned like the idiot he was.
Rogan stepped closer to Nicholas. Nicholas backed up until he reached the sofa and couldn’t go any farther.
“Okay, okay. That was a cheap shot about your precious SUV. No harm no foul, right?”
Rogan remained silent.
“Can I offer you a drink?” Nicholas asked.
Rogan hovered over the man, drinking in Nicholas’s fear as the pompous fool gulped loudly, then tried to cover his fear with machismo.
“Really, Rogan. I like you and all, but you’re not my type.”
“What’s your type, Bonadello? You like the ones you can try to intimidate? You think because a woman lives on her own that you have the right to do what you did?”
“Whoa, now. I’ve never had to intimidate a lady.”
“You’ll do anything to try to get your way, won’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
In spite of his words, Rogan knew he had found the culprit by the flicker in Nicholas’s eyes before he attempted to shutter them.
“You’re the worst kind of coward.”
“I’m not afraid of you, Rogan.”
But his flickering eyes told a different story. He didn’t try to stand up to Rogan. Not that he could. They were toe to toe, and Rogan had the advantage of height and shoulder width and a week’s worth of pent up rage.
He had fucked with the wrong lady.
“Explain the cow head.”
Nicholas laughed, but it sounded forced.
“Cow head? You think I’m some teenage prankster?”
“I think you snuck your rat-like self into Ms. Peterson’s home, left a bloody trail and dumped a mutilated part of a carcass on her bed. And now you think you’ll get away with it.”
Nicholas puffed up his chest and smiled.
“Does this Ms. Peterson you speak of have video cameras or witnesses to prove your accusation?”
“Everyone in town knows you’re the one who has been trying to get the selectmen to do your bidding. You want that land to be protected so you won’t have to deal with noise and traffic. And it won’t escape the authorities that your father owns a farm and processes his own meat, giving you access to the very thing that was left on her bed.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Nicholas tried to move around Rogan, but Rogan grabbed his arm.
“I know exactly what I’m talking about. And you’d better get your ass over there and clean it up now.”
“Or what, tough guy? You’ll beat me up?” Nicholas laughed, beads of sweat gathering on his forehead and temple.
“I wouldn’t rule out the possibility.”
“You’d risk your reputation—what is left of it—for a piece of pussy?”
Rage overrode any ability Rogan had left to reason.
He grabbed the low-life by the collar and pulled him closer.
“Care to repeat that?”
“You’ve known her for what? A month? And you’re ready to go to battle for her?”
Rogan let go of the guy’s collar and turned away, trying desperately to get control of his emotions before he strangled the dirtbag.
“I don’t know how you can stand working for her. Are you that hard up for work? Everyone around here knows she’s a stuck up, better-than-everyone-else bitch—”
Rogan swung around, suddenly not in control of his fist. The only thing he could focus on was the crunch of his knuckles meeting hard jaw and the whirl of Nicholas’s face as it snapped to the side.
Nicholas fell to the floor, but Rogan was on him in a heartbeat, poised to make him regret his words.
“All right, all right! I’m sorry.”
Rogan held his fist in position, fighting the urge to pulverize his foe.
He managed to rein in his outrage. Even in a blind rage, he couldn’t bring himself to hit a man who was cowardly covering his face to protect himself.
The asshole didn’t even have the balls to fight back. Rogan would have welcomed it.
Full of disgust, Rogan lifted himself off Nicholas, suddenly aware of the stiffness of his leg.
He did his best to hide his limp, focusing his thoughts on the coward on the floor behind him.
“Get up,” Rogan ordered.
Nicholas rushed to do as told, brushing blood from his lip with the back of his hand.
“Grab your heaviest duty cleaning supplies and some trash bags.”
“I will not.”
One look from Rogan and his tightened fists had Nicholas changing his tune and scurrying to comply.
The clean up took over two hours, and Rogan enjoyed every second of watching the prick scrub and clean and lug a thirty pound cow head back to his own property.
In addition, he demanded that Nicholas speak to his connection on the Board and request that they work with Reed on establishing a meaningful business in town.
Nicholas, exhausted and defeated, was quick to agree. He also volunteered to speak to local groups about hosting their conventions at Reed’s new place.
Satisfied that Nicholas had made up for his stupidity, Rogan prepared to leave.
“One last thing before I go.” Rogan paused near the front door as an idea occurred to him. “A written apology for Ms. Peterson. Not that she’d ever be afraid or intimidated by such a cowardly act—she’s a woman of the city, after all—but she deserves to know that her neighbor has seen the light and will be the most neighborly guy on the planet from here on out.”
“I’ll apologize in person.”
“Sure. But first you’ll apologize in writing.”
“I refuse to put anything in writing.”
Rogan closed the door behind him and walked back toward Nicholas.
“Okay, okay. Let me get my paper. Goddammit,” Nicholas mumbled as he retrieved a pen and paper.
By the time Rogan approved the handwritten missive, he was beyond exhausted. The adrenaline of the fight had worn off, leaving him in a mess of fatigue.
“That woman is changing you, Rogan.” Nicholas chastised, mocked. He must have sensed that the fight had left Rogan.
Rogan paused on the porch step, but didn’t turn around.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “For the better.”
The drive home felt longer than the cross-country trip he had taken with his buddies after high school, and he fought to keep his eyes focused on the road.
He peeked in on Reed when he arrived home. She was sleeping soundly, hugging one of his pillows to her chest. Her hair, still faintly purple in some spots, fanned across the pillow. He wanted badly to bury his face in her silky waves and inhale.
Instead, he closed the door and plopped himself on the couch, tryin
g his best to get comfortable with the stiff rod protruding from his groin.
Chapter Twenty
He didn’t know how or why, but Rogan didn’t complain when he woke in the middle of the night to the sweet softness of Freedom Peterson snuggling into his chest. Her soft hair tickled his chin, yet he had no desire to brush it away. Her hips nestled against his, a fact which did not escape the notice of his impossibly hard erection.
Her sweet, sleepy moans vibrated against his chest.
Though he wanted her more than anything, he surprised himself by realizing that he wanted this closeness even more.
With a few deep breaths and an inhuman dose of willpower, he held her close and fell back to sleep to the sweet scent of Freedom.
In the morning, she was gone.
***
Rogan went to work like he did every day, but he was even more irritated than he had been, if such a thing was possible.
He had stopped to pick up freshly baked doughnuts from Tiana’s Café downtown, but when he stopped at Reed’s house, she wasn’t there. At lunchtime when he went to check in with her, there was still no sign of her. He had casually checked every cottage to see if he could accidentally run into her, but no luck.
When he tried to ask Simplicity, he couldn’t get a word in around her talk of fairy houses and some other nonsense. He finally gave up and went back to work.
By the end of the day when he still hadn’t seen her, he surmised that she was, indeed, avoiding him. Her car was here, the doughnuts remained untouched, and the comfortable twinge he had felt the previous night when she snuggled up to him on the couch was replaced with the same irritation he had been dealing with all along.
***
Reed felt accomplished after her day spent deep in the woods. Her secret project was turning into a huge success, and since she was ahead of schedule on the other stuff, she was able to focus on this. She couldn’t wait to share it with Rogan.
She couldn’t even believe she had been able to keep him away from this area for so long. He had done most of the big work on this section of the property early on, so his focus had been elsewhere. He really had no need to venture a quarter of a mile into the woods, for which she was grateful. She didn’t want to ruin the surprise.
After a long day of scrubbing metal, she looked forward to a hot bath in her claw foot tub. When she had first moved here, she thought the ancient relic was hideous. Now she fantasized about it regularly.
Rogan had awakened her to the special joy of baths, and even if he wasn’t physically present for every bath she indulged in, he most certainly was present mentally.
The closeness they had shared the previous night made up for all the iciness of the week before.
Maybe they stood a chance, after all.
He was giving her space. She could compromise and try to be a better partner.
She had found the letter he had left out on the coffee table, written by her horrible next-door neighbor. Judging by the shaky handwriting, she knew he had written it under duress, and she knew Rogan was the source of inspiration.
Though Reed knew she was perfectly capable of taking care of these kinds of malicious situations on her own, she had to admit to a certain warm buzz at the thought of Rogan acting on his own accord. On her behalf. Even when he was angry with her.
“Oh my goodness, I think the world is about to stop spinning. Is my big sister, the all-powerful Freedom Starshine, actually humming?”
“Of course not,” Reed snapped. But her smile betrayed her words.
“You are such a goner. Love is in the air!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Reed brushed past Simplicity and made a beeline for the bathroom.
She’d start the water running, then gather her clothes and such. She had recently purchased extra fluffy towels for her guests to use, and figured she should try them out.
When she turned the faucet, a thin stream of water rushed out, followed by a series of pathetic drips before it puttered out completely.
“Simplicity—have you had any trouble with the water today?” Reed shouted over her shoulder.
“Nope! What’s going on?”
“Try the kitchen faucet, would you?” Reed attempted to turn on the water in the bathroom sink to no avail.
“Nothing here. What’s going on?”
“I have no frigging idea.” Dollar signs appeared in the front of Reed’s mind. She couldn’t afford a catastrophe.
“Um, Freedom? You might want to come look at this.”
No, she really didn’t want to look. She’d rather sit in a six hour, unproductive board meeting than have to see whatever caused that note of distress and caution in Simplicity’s voice.
Reality didn’t always register with Simplicity, so if she sounded worried…
Ignoring her desire to bury her head in the sand, Reed ventured to the basement, where Simplicity was standing as close to the bottom step as she could get without being knee deep in water.
Reed let out a string of expletives as she pushed past Simplicity and waded through the water. All of the new bath items were still in their shipment boxes down here. She had them unloaded through the bulkhead since she planned to install them in the bathrooms this week.
She hadn’t planned on a flood.
Who the hell planned for floods?
She did, that’s who. The old her. The reasonable her. The her who would never attempt to skateboard or dye her hair funky colors or hook up with a stranger or buy a goddamned decrepit cottage motel in the kind of place where neighbors tried to terrorize their competitors by leaving cow heads on their beds!
The her who had every step of her life planned in an outline that would make a researcher proud. The her who embraced order and logic and power.
She might as well hand the property over to the town right now. Her bank account was lower than she had seen it since her first year drawing a salary.
She needed to open so she could generate income. She couldn’t afford for pipes to be raining in her basement. She couldn’t afford to replace all of the items she had already purchased. And even if her insurance would cover the cost, she’d never get them ordered and delivered in time for her grand opening.
Three hours later, she received a diagnosis of “burst pipes due to deterioration at the soldering joints” and a “burnt out pump.” How lucky for her that she had ignored Rogan’s cautionary advice about the pipes. How wonderful that she now had a crapload of structural work that would need to be redone in order to comply with regulations.
And how gosh-darned-slap-her-with-a-rubber-fish-on-the-backside-wonderful it was that her special ordered, high premium, one-of-a-kind brochures and marketing materials, ordered at one of the highest-end print and design specialty shops in NYC, were also in the basement.
Ruined.
The price tag for repairs was staggering. It would leave her with almost no fallback money to speak of.
But what choice did she have?
Unable to come to terms with the shittiness of her current life, Reed curtly told the plumber that she’d contact him the next morning. She asked him to turn off the water so no further damage would occur.
She needed to escape. Just for a little while. She needed to drive until she was on familiar ground. She needed to clear her head with the city air she was accustomed to. She needed to feel like herself again.
She needed to start making better decisions.
She threw a few items into an overnight bag and checked in with Simplicity.
“I’m heading out for the night. Taking a ride to the city. Anyplace you want me to drop you off?”
“No way. I’m a roughing it kind of girl. I’ll watch over the place while you’re gone.”
“You sure? Even with creepy cow head guy next door?”
“I have very good skills. That freaked me out, but now I’m prepared for the freakiness. But I’ll lock the doors, anyway. Oh, and I have my taser.” Simplicity smiled and pushed Re
ed out the door.
“I don’t even want to know.” Reed shook her head as she rushed down the driveway.
She tossed her bag into the passenger seat, startling at the sudden and unexpected sound of Rogan’s SUV roaring up the road and kicking up dirt as he slammed into the driveway.
She smiled, happy he was coming over to see her. She had hoped they were on a better path after her visit to his home.
Why did he look so angry?
He didn’t bother to greet her.
“So I was at a parent’s meeting tonight for the summer and fall soccer league. Imagine my shock when I learned that my son hasn’t been showing up for the past several weeks.” He paused.
Reed studied him, confused. Why was he yelling at her about this?
“Apparently he told them he couldn’t come anymore because he had a tutoring appointment. Anything you feel you should tell me about that?”
Shit. Tutoring. Every week.
Dylan had used her to get out of soccer, the activity he loathed. She knew he hadn’t told his father, but he had said it was because he wanted to surprise him with his new reading skills.
She’d kill the brat when she saw him.
“I get why you’re angry, but how was I supposed to know he was blowing off soccer?”
His nostrils flared. “If you had told me he was coming, I could have told you. I’m the parent for Christ’s sake.”
“I was just trying to help, Rogan.”
“Help him screw up any remote chance he had of making it on the fall team? He needed this summer program.”
“You know the kids bully him, right?”
“Bullshit. Why would they bully him?”
“Because he can’t read.”
Rogan stepped toward her, a challenge on his face. His eyes squinted as if trying to make sense of the suddenly foreign language she spoke.
“He can read.” His voice was low and lethal.
She stood her ground. She felt sad for him. Sad that he had to come to terms with the fact that his son was struggling. Sad that he didn’t know. Sad that she was the one who had to tell him. Sad that he would take this whole thing out on her.
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