by Molly Mirren
Slowly closing her eyes, Erin wondered how the hell she was supposed to live with a guy who thought she was the lowest of pervs—or how she was supposed to live with herself. She hated being a dev, and her recent, if somewhat pitiful, suicide attempt (thank God no one knew about that) was a glaring testament to how detrimental the whole devotee thing was for her. She needed to be normal.
From now on, she was going to be a freakin’ paragon of the conventional and boring. Nothing but missionary style with perfectly able-bodied guys for her. No kinky wheelchair sex (with the guy in it, of course) ever again. And she did not just feel a stab of regret in her girlie bits at that declaration.
She decided she'd been going about it all wrong for the past five years. She'd been trying to find herself and all that existential crap, trying to come to terms with the deviant part of her, trying to understand it instead of denying it. It was time to stop perpetuating it by dallying with disabled guys like Luis. Out of sight, out of mind, right?
But how was she supposed to do that if she was living with a wheeler?
Chapter 3
Jay was eavesdropping, ear straining at his bedroom door while he gripped the wheels of his chair for balance. Unfortunately, he only caught snippets of the conversation—mostly Erin's side of it, since Zac was keeping his voice down. Jay heard lots of adamant nos and something about a serial killer, which he assumed referred to himself. Obviously, things were not going in his favor.
He pulled his ear away from the door and pressed his palms into the seat cushion of his chair, lifting his butt up for a moment. It was something he did often to help prevent pressure sores on his ass, and it also gave him something to do with his hands when he felt antsy. He glanced at the boxes he hadn't unpacked yet. Maybe he should repack the stuff he'd already gotten out instead of unpacking more. It was looking like he would probably be homeless and back on Luis's doorstep soon.
That was a serious downer. Luis was a good friend, but they got on each other's nerves as roommates. However, the real deal breaker was Chopper, Jay's overgrown mutt. Luis was allergic to him—or so he said. Jay figured the real truth was that Chopper, who was what some would call butt-ugly and what Jay himself called ferocious-looking, scared Luis. No matter how much Jay assured Luis that Chopper was harmless, Luis had the same reaction everyone else had: fear and trepidation.
There was a knock, and Jay twisted the knob with one hand and used his other to wheel his chair away as he opened the door.
Zac was standing in the hall. “You're in, dude,” he said with a lopsided smile. “Sorry about the 'asshole' comment and Erin's not-so-stellar reception. Like I said, she's still kind of out of it.”
Jay felt a twinge of remorse. He knew damn well why Erin had been so angry, and she had every right to be. What the hell was he doing? Why was he taking advantage of the situation? He used to have some morals.
Unfortunately, those morals had all gone out the window when he'd seen the appealing, if slightly rundown, old house where Erin lived. He'd been surprised to see there was a wheelchair ramp leading to the front door, although given the whole devotee thing, it made sense in a way that creeped him out. It stood to reason her house would be welcoming to wheelers.
The house sat on a street that was a mixture of modest houses like Erin's and the huge old mansions Olmos Park was known for. The house was already made accessible for his disability with widened doorways, hardwood floors, handrails in the master bathroom, and ramps. Even better, the large detached garage in the back was the perfect place to store and rebuild his Harley in his spare time, something not many apartment complexes could offer. And the decent-sized backyard where Chopper could have some stretching room was gravy.
So, three days ago, when a tall, lanky guy in a black concert T-shirt and jeans too skinny for a dude to be wearing had opened the front door and assumed Jay was there to inquire about the roommate ad on Craig's list, Jay, acting on impulse, hadn't corrected him—and that was before Jay had even seen the inside of the house. Once he'd taken the tour, he was sold.
The house had great bones, although it had seen better days and could use some repair work. He could probably help out some in that regard and looked forward to it, if his landlords were willing to let him. He liked working with his hands, and he knew a thing or two about replacing rotted wood and painting.
Olmos Park was a historic, mostly affluent little city with its own police force. The area had been swallowed up and surrounded by the much larger city of San Antonio but had kept its identity. Jay hadn't lived in San Antonio long, but even he knew paying double the low rent Zac had asked for was still a good deal in Olmos Park. Hell, since the house was accessible, a feature that was hard to find, Jay would have paid triple what Zac asked. The only drawback was his new roommate probably wanted him to die a slow, painful death.
Jay followed Zac back into the living room and approached Erin. It was time to face the music. She obviously hadn't told Zac she knew Jay from somewhere else, which was surprising but a relief. He still hadn't come up with a plausible explanation for why he'd come to apologize to her and ended up as her roommate instead.
Jay got the vibe she hadn't said anything about how they met because her brother didn't know about her weird sexual preference, and she didn't want him to know. Still, judging by her fierce resistance to Jay moving in, she was far from ready to forgive and forget.
She looked small and childlike lying there on the couch, bulky ankle splint almost up to her knee and puffy pillows dwarfing her. She was wearing a tight white pajama T-shirt that emphasized a nice rack and flat belly. Luis had been right. Freak she might be, but she definitely wasn't unattractive. Loose drawstring pajama pants with clouds and red, kissy lips on them rode low on her hips, exposing a small strip of pale skin between the bottom of the tank and the top of the pants. Her skin looked like it would be soft.
Her long brown hair was tangled wildly and spilled out over her pillow, giving her a serious case of bed-head. There was a cowlick in her bangs that exposed her forehead along with a large, nasty-looking bruise on it. Jay couldn't help but wince a little at the sight of it. She'd taken quite a knock in that wreck.
He inched his chair as close to her as the coffee table would allow. Her eyes were closed, but the pained grimace on her face and the stiffness of her shoulders told him she wasn't asleep. He cleared his throat, trying to get her attention.
Slowly, she turned her head toward him, and then her gaze burned into him, suspicious and unwavering.
Her brother shifted his weight from foot to foot, watching their interaction warily. Only the whine of a distant leaf blower broke through the thick, awkward silence in the living room. It was interrupted by the sudden, tinny beats of a song Jay didn't recognize coming from the cell phone in Zac's jeans pocket.
“Um, I'll be right back,” Zac said with a hint of relief on his face. He loped into the kitchen to take the call, leaving Jay and Erin alone.
Erin's eyes were locked on Jay, relentless and penetrating. They were an uncommon hazel color that reminded him of that famous picture of the Afghan girl on the cover of National Geographic: pale sea green mixed with gold, then ringed on the outer edge with a dark forest green. Ignoring the unease he felt from her scrutiny, he said, “So, you didn't rat me out.”
Her features hardened. “I don't know what your deal is, but you need to tell Zac you changed your mind. Think of an excuse. I want you out of my house.”
“You need my rent money.”
“I'd rather starve.”
At that moment, Zac walked back into the room and approached Erin from the other end of the couch, and she looked away from Jay.
Zac held out a glass of water and a couple of pills. “Time for your next dose of antibiotic and your happy pill.”
Erin accepted the glass and the pills, but she only swallowed one of them. “I'll take the antibiotic but not the pain pill. It makes me too loopy.” Her eyes slid to Jay, making it clear she didn't trust him. “I'm
not taking anything that might hinder my faculties. I want to be alert.”
Zac rolled his eyes. “Just take it. I can tell you're hurting. You look like you just swallowed a buttload of hominy. Why suffer if you don't have to?”
“Will you be here?” she asked. There was a hint of pleading and vulnerability in her tone. “You won't leave me alone . . . ?” She left the question open-ended, and everyone knew she meant alone with Jay, the serial killer.
“No,” answered Zac. “I won't leave you alone. I'm not leaving for three more days. Hopefully, your 'faculties' will be functioning better by then,” he added wryly.
She cast one more distrustful glance in Jay's direction and then, with a little sigh, took the other pill. “I'm serious, Zac.” She grabbed his wrist. “Don't . . . leave . . . me.”
Zac crouched down so they could talk at eye level. Gently taking the glass of water from her hand, he helped her adjust the pillow behind her head. “Erin,” he said in a quieter voice, “I wouldn't leave you with someone if I thought they would hurt you. You know that. Jay's a good dude.”
Erin shook her head, her chin wobbling like she was on the verge of tears. Jay suddenly felt kind of shitty knowing he was the cause of her distress, finagling his way into her home like he was.
Zac drew her into a comforting hug and let her cry on his shoulder. “Shhh,” he soothed. He held her for a long time and then carefully lowered her back onto the pillow. He might be a flake and a burner, but it was clear he loved his sister.
Jay grabbed a Kleenex from the box on the coffee table and handed it to Zac. The whole dev thing was fucking weird, and Jay despised them with an intensity even he couldn't quite explain, but he wasn't a completely heartless bastard. He didn't like to see a woman cry, even if it was some crazy dev.
Still, there was something about Erin he couldn't put his finger on. She made him feel almost . . . protective. That wasn't the right word exactly, but he didn't know what else to call it. He might have even been attracted to her if he'd met her out someplace, like a bar, and didn't know her secret. It wasn't like she had “I'm a devotee” tattooed on her forehead. She looked perfectly normal on the outside.
Her brother took the tissue and tenderly wiped her face, then held it to her nose. She blew into it, making a faint little honking noise that made her seem even more vulnerable and kind of cute.
Jay felt a strange tug on his heart that made him oddly restless. He pressed his palms into his seat cushion and did a quick pressure lift.
Brushing Erin's hair back from her face, Zac said, “You'll feel better once you get some more rest.”
Her lips tightened and her eyes slanted in Jay's direction. “I doubt it.”
Just then, Jay heard Chopper scratching at the back door that led outside from the kitchen, and he was glad for the reprieve. He wheeled over and let the dog in. Chopper, a black, sleek-haired, hugely muscular dog that was at least part Rottweiler and part anyone's guess (maybe horse), bounded over to his water bowl, sloppily lapped up a few gulps of water, and licked his huge jowls. Then he sniffed a trail into the living room, where he noticed Zac and Erin. His floppy Rottie-style ears pricked up as much as they could, and his out-of-place, shaggy, undocked tail, which looked like it should be attached to another dog, stood at attention.
“Chopper, sit!” Jay commanded when he realized Chopper was about a second away from leaping onto the couch and giving Erin a slobbery bath she probably didn't want. Plus, Jay was afraid the 150-pound mutant giant might accidentally hurt her in his exuberance.
Chopper immediately sat, knowing not to ignore a command from his master, but his whimper, his fidgets, and the way his stumpy tan eyebrows furrowed together in a woeful canine look said he was barely containing himself.
The painkiller Erin had taken seemed to be already kicking in, if her droopy eyelids were any indication, but when she saw Chopper, they went wide.
Although Erin's brother had had a few days to get used to Chopper, it was clear the jury was still out about what he thought of the dog, judging by the way he abruptly stood and shielded his sister behind him. Yes, Chopper looked like some kind of hound from hell, but looks could be deceiving. He was about as vicious as the Easter Bunny, and he was a terrible guard dog. The only danger Chopper posed to a burglar was possibly drowning him with doggy kisses. He was loyal, however, and his goofy antics as a puppy had brought Jay through some dark days in those first few years after his accident.
Erin shifted on the couch, trying to see around her brother. “Zac, move,” she said, but he continued to stand guard.
Jay pushed his chair closer to Chopper and affectionately scratched between the dog's ears. His fur was still cool from the nippy February air outside. “He's harmless. I swear.”
Zac still didn't appear to be convinced. “He's—he's not hungry, is he?”
Jay grinned. “He's always hungry, but he prefers chunks of Velveeta cheese to human flesh.”
Erin pushed weakly at Zac's leg. “Move, Zac,” she repeated.
Zac stepped back so he was standing near the end of the couch where Erin's head rested, still close enough to protect her. Erin looked at Jay, her expression unreadable. “His name is Chopper?”
“Yeah,” Jay said, expecting her to react with fear like everyone else.
Instead she held out her fist, offering it to the dog, and said, “Chopper, come.”
“Erin . . . ,” Zac started in warning, but he trailed off when Chopper, well-trained and eager to meet Erin, padded over to her and sniffed her fist, then licked it.
She smiled faintly and rubbed his chest, then scratched between his ears like Jay had done. “You're a handsome boy, Chopper. Nice to meet you.”
Jay couldn't believe it. Maybe the painkiller she was on clouded her judgment, but she was absolutely unafraid, even though she was small enough for Chopper to swallow in one gulp.
Chopper breathed a wet, noisy sigh of contentment and rested his chin and mammoth black front paws on the edge of the couch by Erin's side, making it clear he was in heaven and wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon. Erin's small smile widened into something that was . . . well . . . stunning. With her long brown hair, delicate features, and small pert nose, she was already pretty, but when her smile was uninhibited like that, showing dainty white teeth that were slightly uneven and just a promise of dimples that didn't quite materialize, she went from pretty to radiant.
Jay's pulse picked up and his mouth suddenly went dry. He swallowed and glanced down at his lap to make sure his numb dick hadn't risen to attention. It hadn't, of course. He couldn't get wood from emotions or simple attraction anymore; he could only get it from direct touch. Still, he hadn't reacted like this to a girl in a very long time.
He stared at Erin, a little dumbstruck and a lot horny, and wanted nothing more than to feel her small hands rub the parts of his body that still had sensation. He felt envious of Chopper as he watched her gently pet the dog. He had to give her a few brownie points for that. Anyone who could see through Chopper's grisly beast of an exterior to the gentle teddy bear within couldn't be all bad, even if her penchant for gimps was wacko.
As if sensing Jay's eyes on her, Erin glanced up. The light of amusement and fondness for Chopper instantly faded from her strikingly colored eyes, and, to Jay's immense disappointment, the heart-stopping smile fell from her face.
Chapter 4
Erin woke to a shrill noise coming from the kitchen. She opened her eyes groggily and squinted at the digital clock on her nightstand. 11:16 a.m. So early. She hadn't gone to sleep until sometime around six that morning and was supremely annoyed to be woken at such an ungodly hour. She took a deep breath and tried not to think about how much the incision on her ankle itched and hurt.
When she'd finally fallen asleep, she hadn't slept well. Zac had left yesterday to go on tour with his band, Silver, and Erin had vowed that once the safety net of her brother was gone she wouldn't take any more painkillers. She wanted to be alert and on gua
rd against her new roommate. So last night she'd swallowed a couple of Motrin instead of one of her happy pills.
The Motrin had only helped a little, and the itching and constant ache in her ankle had caused her to sleep fitfully. She would be a zombie if she had many more nights like last night—or many more mornings getting woken up by what sounded like a maniacal dentist in the kitchen.
She wondered where Chopper was. She and the dog had fallen into an unlikely routine of sorts in the three days since she'd come home from the hospital. He'd made a huge commotion outside her bedroom door that first morning after the big reveal that Jay was there to stay. Chopper whined and scratched until Jay gave in and let him into her room before going to work. Not up to interacting with Jay, Erin had played possum and pretended to be asleep (as if anyone could sleep through Chopper leaping onto their bed and licking them).
As a result, a precedent had been set. Now, every day before Jay left for work, Chopper would end up in Erin's bed, sleeping next to her until she woke up for good. This morning, however, his enormous warm body, which was almost as big as a man's, wasn't snuggled next to her, and she kind of missed him.
It had been beyond presumptuous and rude of Jay to let his gargantuan pet into her room while she slept without asking her, and she should have complained—but she hadn’t. Apparently Jay had taken her silence as permission.
The truth was, Erin really liked Chopper. She'd made her dislike of Jay clear, but she hadn't hidden the fact that his dog was exempt from that dislike. Besides, it wasn't like the poor animal could help who his master was.
She sighed as the shrill zzzzzzzzzzzzzz noise went off again, making her teeth hurt. It was clear she wasn't going to get any more sleep, which meant she needed caffeine pronto. She hoped who or whatever was making the noise in the kitchen wasn't a crazed lunatic. Maybe she should be more worried. She was supposed to be alone.
It was a Tuesday, so Jay should be at work, but maybe he'd stayed home for some reason. If he hadn't and she was about to die a horrible death at the hands of Jack the Driller, she hoped she would at least have some caffeine in her body first to make it more bearable. She sat up, reached for the crutches lying on the floor next to her bed, and hobble-thumped her way into the kitchen.