My Bad- Lani Lynn Vale

by Vale, Lani Lynn

  She huffed out a reply. “I hate school, and I’m almost done, and I think I chose the wrong major.”

  My head tilted in confusion.

  “You what?” I blinked.

  She was six weeks away from finishing her bachelor’s in nursing. How the hell did she get this far and then just decide that she had chosen the wrong field?

  She sighed. “I don’t want to work in a hospital setting, and who the hell is going to want to hire a nurse that has a bachelor’s degree when they could hire one with an associate’s degree, get the same type of care, and pay them less?”

  I paused because I was unsure of the answer that she wanted for that.

  Technically, she was right.

  Outside of the hospital setting, she really wasn’t going to find a job that would pay her what she deserved that couldn’t just as easily find someone just as qualified for less money.

  “Shit,” I groaned, standing up and walking to the window. “What are you going to do?”

  She grimaced. “I’m not sure. Get through the next six weeks, and I guess go from there. I’ve been thinking about where I want to work, and all I can come up with is a school nurse, or going to a doctor’s office. The hospital setting just isn’t for me. Especially when I see that you have to deal with that douchebag on a daily basis.”

  The ‘douchebag’ being Kelley Lowe, the man that had a hard-on for all the Mackenzie girls, even the one that didn’t work for him and worked for the hospital for free.

  “Kelley is a douchebag,” I agreed. “But if that’s the only reason you have for not working there, it’s not a good one.”

  She shrugged. “It’s not just him, though he is a problem and he needs to go. It’s also the fact that I don’t like working twelve-hour shifts. I like taking naps. I don’t want to work with my mother and sister, and I don’t want to work at all.”

  My sister’s honesty was refreshing.

  I laughed. “You don’t get a choice on the working bit. Unfortunately, you have to work to make money. Sucks but it is what it is.”

  She sighed. “I know it. I’m just being a pretty negative Nancy lately. What are you looking at?”

  I’d been standing at the window for a while now because a certain man had caught my eye.

  Then, a second man had captured that attention, and I was too busy looking at him to return my eyes to the previous one.

  “My stalker is outside washing his truck,” I murmured. “Shirtless.”

  My phone buzzed on the coffee table and Phoebe picked it up and handed it to me as she took her place at my side so she could see the view, too.

  “There are two,” she murmured. “Why does that big badass one look so familiar?”

  “That’s the neighbor that hates me. He’s also the one that we got in that fight with when we were younger. Remember? The one that I yelled at his sister, and he lost his shit on me?” I reminded her.

  I knew that Phoebe remembered. It was hard not to.

  Phoebe’s eyes lit with understanding as she moved closer to the window with newfound focus.

  “I thought he was going to kick your ass,” she admitted. “I remember breaking you two up, pushing you away from each other.”

  If it hadn’t been for Phoebe, Bayou very well might have kicked my ass.

  It was at a club party about eight years ago. Brielle—and the only reason I remembered her name was because the name was so pretty, and the woman was so nasty to me—had caught me eyeing a boy that she ‘cared for’ and didn’t like the way that I was looking at him. I’d, of course, gone out of my way to tell her that I hadn’t actually been ‘eyeing’ anybody, even though I had.

  And when she’d called me a bitch, I’d gone off on her.

  Bayou, Brielle’s brother, had taken offense to me crowding Brielle and had roughly situated himself between the two of us.

  When we’d gone to club parties with the Benton Chapter, I’d, of course, seen the large, quiet boy that had turned into an even bigger, larger boy-man sitting in the shadows. It was hard to miss him. However, I’d never once seen him talk or do anything but sit in the shadows. It’d been painfully obvious that he was both shy and unwilling to even try to fit in, but whew, boy. All it took was me yelling at his sister and bam! No more Mr. Nice Guy, and he was more than willing to let me know it.

  After that, I’d seen him at seven club parties total, and he’d gone out of his way to glare at me.

  He was older than me, and likely knew better than to hold that kind of a grudge, but still, to this day, he didn’t forget the way I’d yelled at his sister.

  And wouldn’t you know, I moved in next door to the hateful, never-going-to-let-it-go bastard.

  “I remember him,” Phoebe admitted, sounding lost in her own memory of the time. “I really liked him.”

  “You liked him?” I asked incredulously.

  “Yep,” she said. “He liked reading the same stuff as me. He also hated going to those club parties as much as I did. How did I not know that you lived next to him all this time?”

  All this time being about a year and a half.

  “Because you never have time to come over here,” I pointed out. “And when you do, you and I are busy doing stuff. Plus, Bayou’s never home. Like ever. I think I see Hoax there more than I do Bayou.”

  “Bayou has Asperger’s,” she said softly. “He told me all about it the day that you and Brielle got into it. When we learned about types of autism when we were in our third semester, I thought a lot about him as we were going over Asperger’s. He exhibited a lot of the signs and symptoms, but he’s definitely on the less-affected end of the scale.”

  “I had no clue that you spent that much time with him to ever make those connections,” I felt deflated. I hadn’t even made the effort to spend time with him or get to know him at all, and here my sister was telling me that she had. And she’d realized that he was out of his element. “I don’t notice any of those signs or symptoms in him anymore, though.”

  Honestly, other than scaring the crap out of me, Bayou didn’t look like he suffered from any problems.

  But he remembered exactly who I was and what I’d done. That I’d seen right off the bat.

  “I’m not sure that he likes me and Hoax hanging out,” I admitted, feeling my stomach clench for some reason at the thought. “If I were to go out there right now, he’d glare at me the whole time.”

  She snorted. “Leave that to me. Let’s go talk.”

  I immediately shook my head.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I confessed.

  I swallowed. That was the last thing I wanted to do.

  After dinner the other night, Hoax hadn’t made a single effort to come see or talk to me. It’d been three entire days, and nothing.

  Granted, I hadn’t made a move, either. But still. Women weren’t supposed to be the ones to make contact. Were they?

  I deflated slightly at that.

  “Come on, you little shy shit. Let’s go.” She tugged on my wrist, dislodging me from the blinds where I’d been spying, and pulled me outside.

  Though had I really not wanted to go, things would’ve been a whole lot different since I had thirty pounds and two inches on my sister.

  Granted, that really wasn’t saying anything since I was only five foot four, but still.

  “What are we going to do?” I hissed at her as we walked.

  “We’re going to go over there and talk to them,” she said matter-of-factly. “Oh, wow. They sure do look better the closer we get.”

  She was right.

  Bayou had his shirt off now, too. And I realized rather quickly that where Hoax had no tattoos but the one on his inner bicep, Bayou had them everywhere. They weren’t on his hands or neck up, but they were everywhere else. There was almost not a single piece of his skin on his left side that wasn’t covered in tattoos. The only reason his right side wasn’t covered was likely due to the fact
that he was still working on filling out the left first. I was fairly positive that he’d get to the right side eventually.

  “Hey, y’all!” Phoebe chirped, causing both men to stop what they were doing and look over at us.

  Hoax wasn’t surprised in the least to be seeing us—he’d likely heard us come out of the house because we hadn’t been quiet about it. Bayou, however, did look surprised. And he didn’t look welcoming, either.

  I hastily turned my gaze away from Bayou and examined Hoax.

  There was something different about him.

  “Hey, darlin’,” Hoax drawled. “I see you finally drug your sister out of the window.”

  I blushed nine shades of red and looked at him guiltily.

  He winked at me and stepped away from the truck to grab the hose. From there he sprayed off his side and then Bayou’s when he’d stepped back.

  “Y’all do realize that it’s supposed to rain tonight, don’t you?” I blurted out.

  Even now I could see clouds rolling in.

  “My cousin borrowed it yesterday. When she returned it, there was bird shit covering almost every available square inch. It needed to be washed,” he justified.

  That explained why both his truck and his bike had been gone. I’d wondered how the hell that happened and why, but with me not having the lady balls to go over there and ask him, I’d been left in the dark.

  “Why wouldn’t she have washed it herself?” Phoebe asked bluntly. “Seems like the person that borrows it should also be the one to restore it. When I borrow my dad’s truck, I bring it back with a full tank of gas and a fresh wash.”

  “Because Brielle is a little butthead.” Hoax shrugged. “And she doesn’t think about anybody but herself.”

  I bit my tongue as not to agree or disagree with him and cause Bayou to hate me even more. But secretly, I was agreeing wholeheartedly with him.

  “Do you remember me?” Phoebe blurted.

  I turned to find her standing in front of Bayou, staring up at him with her hands on her hips.

  “Yep,” he agreed, not offering anything more than that.

  “Cool,” she said. “Well, I’m going to go.”

  Bayou and I both frowned at her. Hoax only shook his head and laughed quietly.

  When I went to leave with her, Hoax curled his large hand around the waistband of my jeans and tugged.

  I instantly stiffened and turned, as much as I could anyway, to find him staring at me with a smile on his face.

  “Not so fast,” he ordered. “I’m almost done, and then we can go out to eat.”

  “I don’t think going out to eat is what’s best for you,” I told him, testing his grip. “But I gotta go. My sister needs help with a few more things.”

  “No, I don’t!” she called out. “I only wanted to see why you were pouting. You wouldn’t tell me over the phone.”

  I growled at her, causing both Phoebe and the man still holding my pants to chuckle.

  The fuckers.

  My face had likely been singed due to the amount of blushing I’d been doing over the last five minutes.

  God, sometimes little sisters were the worst!

  “I’ll see you tomorrow for game night. You should bring Hoax.” She paused and turned in the middle of the road, her gaze going to the big man who was standing there watching it all go down with not a single hint of amusement on his face. “You can come, too, Benson.”

  Bayou narrowed his eyes at her. “Bayou. Not Benson.”

  “You went by Benson back then,” she said, not agreeing to call him by his name.

  “I go by Bayou now.” He shrugged.

  “So you’ll come?” she asked.

  “No,” he told her flatly.

  “Huh,” she shrugged. “Your loss. Game night is badass.”

  Then she turned and walked to her car.

  “Can you at least go get your trash and shit out of my living room?” I called after her.

  “Oh, yes!” She hurried to the house, leaving her truck door hanging wide open.

  “Your sister’s a little bit of a hot mess,” Hoax muttered laughingly. “I like her.”

  “My sister’s definitely a handful,” I admitted, turning once again. “You can let me go now.”

  “In time,” he said. “I kind of like where my hand’s at.”

  He flexed his fingers, and I felt one graze over the crack of my ass.

  I shivered slightly, unwilling to admit that that small little caress made me feel more things in that instant than I had during my entire relationship with the last man I’d dated.

  Hearing my front door slam, I turned to see Phoebe walking out of my house with a bag of chips that I’d just bought at the store that morning and her purse.

  I rolled my eyes and waved when she got into her truck. Pulling away moments later, I was left standing there awkwardly while Hoax finished washing off the truck.

  When he’d move, I’d move with him.

  It was about the time he was handing the hose over to Bayou that I noticed he no longer had his cast.

  “Your cast is off,” I said dumbly.

  “Yep,” he agreed. “Got it off this morning because I got a rock in it. They cut it off, then went ahead and x-rayed it. Since it finally looked good, they allowed me to keep it off, but still want me to go easy on it for the next week before they officially release me. I had to have it put back on the last time I had it removed since it wasn’t quite healed.”

  Hearing about him officially being released made my heart stutter.

  Because, from what I understood, the moment he was released he was free to go back to doing whatever he did for the military.

  I was thinking he was Delta Force seeing as he was so secretive about what he did, as well as the way he’d ducked out of every single picture that’d been taken the night that we’d been with my family. Meaning he likely had a really freakin’ dangerous job, and I needed to steer far, far away from him.

  But I couldn’t help myself. Every time I went to tell myself he wasn’t good for me, I completely ignored it.

  This man was addictive. Hell, he hadn’t spoken to me at all in three days, and I’d told myself that was good. Yet, I’d still watched the window for when he’d come home, and I’d still come over here without much of a protest.

  Hell, I hadn’t even thrown a fit like I probably should have when he latched onto my waistband.

  I wanted to be exactly where I was. There was no doubt about that.

  And, based on my relationship history, this was likely about to go nowhere fast.

  But Hoax was like a just made, hot and ready glazed donut.

  It didn’t matter how full you were, whether you were on a low-carb diet, or where you were about to go. Almost nobody could pass up a just-made donut that was still hot.

  I sure as hell couldn’t.

  And when my favorite donut shop had that stupid ‘hot donuts’ sign in the shop window, I’d never been able to help myself. I’d go in and get one, whether I needed one or not.

  It was just the way life was for me.

  This man, with his sexy beard and his all-too-knowing eyes, was my glazed donut. Something that I couldn’t resist…and if I were being honest, something that I wanted to taste and devour.

  “All those thoughts,” Hoax murmured, pulling me close once again. “Grab a towel, honey. Help me dry my truck off.”

  Then he let me go, and I immediately missed the heat down the back of my pants.

  I would not complain, or let him know that he was getting to me.

  Instead, I did what he asked of me and went to the towel that was sitting on the bike that was parked nearest the front door.

  I’d just reached it when I heard a car roll to a stop at the end of Hoax’s driveway.

  Picking up the three towels, I tossed one to Bayou who still hadn’t said a word to me and tossed the other at Hoax who’d been waiting for me. Then I got to
work on the drying of the large truck that I could only reach the bottom half of and thought about what I was doing.

  Or, at least, I tried to.

  There was a voice that interrupted my thoughts, and I felt my body jolt.

  I knew that voice.

  That same voice had called me a bitch eight years ago, and I still remembered the high-pitch whine of it.

  And yep, the urge to throat punch the woman was still there.

  “What are you doing?” Brielle asked, sounding miffed. “I thought I was borrowing the truck. Why isn’t it ready?”

  She hadn’t seen me yet, so I chose to stay where I was, doing what I was doing, despite my small part that I could reach being more than adequately dry.

  “Washing the truck,” Hoax said. “Because you decided to park it under a tree that you knew damn well the birds congregated in. It’ll be ready in about five minutes, just gotta finish drying it first.”

  The woman huffed. “It was either I park it there, or walk an extra block.”

  I rolled my eyes heavenward and moved slightly, dropping down to my haunches so that I could reach the bottom half of the door.

  “Oh, God. The thought of you having to walk an extra block really hurts my heart,” Hoax drawled, sounding so smart-assy that I wanted to laugh.

  “You don’t understand,” Brielle sniped. “You’re not a woman. You have no clue.”

  “Then enlighten us,” Bayou said. “Because I don’t like cleaning bird shit off of trucks. I also told him if it came back damaged in any way, I’d be sure to help fix it. But seriously, Brielle. This is ridiculous. You can’t borrow people’s belongings and then not return them how they were given to you. It doesn’t work that way.”

  I agreed wholeheartedly again, not that I would admit that aloud.

  I already didn’t like this woman. I didn’t need any more ammunition.

  “Whatever,” she snarled. “It wasn’t in any worse condition than when I got it. The windshield was disgusting.”

  “The windshield was disgusting because the goddamn bugs here are horrible. But, since we’re on the subject of your selfishness, let’s discuss why you left a goddamn box of sushi in it all night and now it smells like fish. Or how about the fact that you somehow managed to use all of my fuel when you were only ‘driving it to work to pick up a few large boxes,’” Hoax said, sounding agitated.