Roughneck: A Payne Brothers Romance

by Frost, Sosie

  Tidus was nothing if not honest. Too bad he never let anyone realize it. Desmond scowled and called for the meeting to come to order deep in the park. I waited for the crowds to clear before jumping into Tidus’s arms once more.

  Only wished he would hug me back.

  “You saved me,” I said. “Thank you so much!”

  “I nearly died getting that piece of shit here. Lucky it didn’t explode.”

  “How did you know?” I peeked up at him. “You made it here just in time.”

  Tidus shrugged me off his shoulders. “Quint texted. Said you could use some help.”

  I grinned. “Tidus Payne, you really are an amazing man.”

  I reached for his hands. He brushed me away.

  He didn’t believe me.

  No, he didn’t want to believe me.

  He ignored my questions and retrieved the keys. They plunked right back into his jacket pocket.

  “I’m not letting you drive it,” he said. “Too dangerous. I’ll get the tow truck.”

  “You have no idea how grateful I am.”

  “Don’t care.”

  “Tidus—”

  He turned to the truck, checking under the frame to ensure nothing new had caught on fire. Should have just tossed my heart under the wheels anyway.

  It was like he knew I wanted to apologize. Easier to ignore me than to make things worse by refusing the forgiveness I didn’t deserve.

  But he still needed to hear it. Needed to know that I was sorry.

  And worried.

  And that, for as happy as I was that he’d gotten sober, he’d confused the everloving hell out of me by keeping it a secret.

  “I got a room at the B&B down the street,” I said. “But I’ll come with you to the garage.”

  “No.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll walk you home.”

  He didn’t give me the choice. I had to hurry to join his side. Even then, he quickened his pace to walk ahead of me. Probably for the best.

  For as much as I wanted to say—the questions I had, and the guilt I suffered—I stared at Tidus with a gnawing pit growing in my stomach that rivaled the hole inside the municipal building.

  What had he done to himself?

  His face was pale, and the circles under his eyes dark. Looked like he hadn’t slept or eaten since he’d left Butterpond.

  And I prayed he didn’t have anything to drink.

  I sucked in a breath, shattering the newfound quiet on the dark street.

  “Why did you leave?” I asked.

  Tidus stared straight ahead. “I had things to do.”

  “Really?”

  “I’m a busy man.”

  “So busy you can walk me home?”

  He frowned. “Only way I guarantee you won’t show up at the garage.”

  “Thought you wanted me to stay in the apartment with you?”

  “Changed my mind.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you were a pain in the ass to get naked, but you’re more of a pest now.”

  Great.

  Tidus didn’t need to escort me to the B&B. The little cottage was only a couple blocks from the township building. Despite the prevalence of sinkholes in the town, I didn’t need an escort.

  Tidus didn’t want to talk to me.

  He also didn’t want to leave.

  Sure, the man was a bastard, but the act didn’t fool me. Tidus wanted me to ask questions just as badly as I wished to learn the answers. Problem was, he hated exposing that vulnerability to me.

  To anyone.

  “You left without a word,” I said. “Didn’t tell me you were leaving.”

  He set his jaw. “Didn’t think you’d care.”

  That hurt.

  I’d never once surrendered my body like that to any man, least of all an arrogant, dangerous jackass like him. But I also wasn’t a woman who insulted or demeaned anyone, least of all an arrogant, dangerous jackass who needed someone like me to prove he was more than the leather jacket, tattoos, and record.

  “You didn’t even let me thank you,” I said.

  “For what?”

  No way I’d answer that question in public. “You know what for.”

  “Not brave enough to say it?” His laugh wasn’t kind. “Say it, Honeybee. I ate you out. Made you come on my tongue. Wrapped your legs around my face and let you hump me like a little slut—”

  I shushed him with a slap to his shoulder. “Jesus, Tidus.”

  “Just reliving the memories.”

  “You’re trying to embarrass me.”

  “Nothing embarrassing about cumming on a man’s face.”

  No, but shouting it in the middle of town was plenty humiliating.

  “Now you’re just trying to piss me off,” I said.

  Tidus stopped, his words harsh. “You don’t gotta thank me for shit. You got what you wanted. I got a taste of something I liked. Everyone won.”

  Neither of us had won anything. “I don’t think sex is a game, Tidus.”

  “Why not? You had a chance to break the rules, cheat a little, have some fun.”

  “It was nothing like that.”

  “Imagine if I’d fucked you.” He smirked. “Then you’d really be angry.”

  At least he realized that much about me. The man infuriated me. How the hell had I managed to find the one asshole who knew which buttons to press to piss me off and which switches to flip to turn me on?

  “Why weren’t you honest with me?” I asked.

  He feigned innocence. “Honey Hudson, I have never once told you a lie.”

  “Yes, you did! All the time! All this talk about you being a bad man, being unreliable, ruining your reputation.”

  “That’s the truth.”

  “Then how do you explain this?” I pulled the chip from my pocket and handed it back to him. He didn’t even look at it. “Why didn’t you tell me about this? Why didn’t you say you were in a program? Why didn’t you talk about getting help?”

  His voice darkened. “Would it have mattered?”

  “Absolutely!”

  “It’s just a fucking chip.”

  And I clenched it so hard in my hand my fingers ached. “It’s a symbol, Tidus. It means the absolute world to you.”

  Tidus swore. “Jesus Christ, it’s a piece of plastic. You think I need some Chuck E Cheese token in my hand to remind me not to down a bottle of whiskey?”

  “No…” I frowned. “I mean…yes. And no. Why the hell do you have it then?”

  He didn’t answer. It probably wasn’t a question he could answer.

  I sighed, my voice softening. “Who else knows about this, Tidus?”

  “No one.”

  And now I needed the drink. Hell, the whole bottle.

  “You only told me?”

  “Surprise.”

  Not the surprise I wanted. “You didn’t even tell your family?”

  “Why would they need to know?”

  Oh Lord.

  I stopped walking, leaning against a picture-perfect white picket fence in front of the B&B.

  What was wrong with this man?

  He acted so dark, so tormented, when he should have been absolutely exhilarated by his accomplishments. It was a time for celebration. And instead…the revelation utterly destroyed him.

  “This is great news,” I said. “Everyone will want to know. You should share it with your brothers, your sister. They’ll absolutely freak out.”

  He grabbed my arm, hauling me off the fence. I flinched as his hand curled hard around my bicep. He pressed hard enough to silence me.

  “If you tell anyone about this chip, I will deny every goddamned word.”

  He released me. I didn’t move. Didn’t look away from green eyes so pained and dark it broke my heart.

  “Do you know what your brothers think of you?” I asked. “What Quint has said about you? You have no idea how happy this would make them. They’d stop worrying that you’re off on some crazy b
ender. They’d be thriller to know you were taking care of yourself.”

  “Believe me when I say it doesn’t matter what the hell the rest of the Paynes think. You got it? You just keep your mouth fucking shut.”

  “If you don’t tell them, I will.”

  Tidus stopped playing. His words hardened into a raging threat.

  “If you say a goddamned thing to any of them, I’ll go for a drink.”

  I stilled. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Got a bottle of Jack under my sink. Saving it for a special occasion.”

  “You would throw it all away?”

  “Absolutely.”

  The single word crushed my heart. “Why?”

  “This is our fucking secret, Honey. You get me?”

  He made no sense. Why did the simple confession enrage him?

  Tidus rubbed his face. The paleness remained, worn and weathered. Exhausted.

  He needed to sleep. Needed to eat.

  Needed someone to help him because he sure as hell refused to do it for himself.

  My words tumbled from unwilling lips. “Why me? Why did you tell me?”

  He shrugged. “Because you’re harmless.”

  “What does that mean?”

  His laugh was yet another insult. “What will a Daddy’s girl like you do? Christ, you’re too afraid to change the ingredients in your barbeque sauce. Figured if anyone found out what I was doing, you’d be the one least likely to fuck anything up. Not like you’re brave enough to do anything.”

  He could be as miserable as he wanted. If he wanted to insult me, fine. Degrade me, even better.

  But not a damned word he spoke changed the truth.

  “What you’ve done is amazing,” I said. “And you should be proud.”

  He scowled. “What the fuck does a man like me have to be proud of?”

  “Overcoming all of that.”

  “Jesus.” His voice rumbled, shadowed with rage. “Listen to yourself, Honey. What aren’t you getting about this? You really think I should be proud of a sobriety I never should have lost in the first place? If you knew half of the shit I said, did, and took, you’d realize I have nothing to make me proud. Nothing in my future. Nothing good that can come of this. I ruined every goddamned chance I had and changed too fucking late, if it’s even a change.”

  “Of course, it’s a change!”

  He swore. “I’m only gonna say this once so listen fucking carefully. I am not like my brothers. I have never been like my brothers. And it’s that difference that makes me who I am, why I’m an addict and a troublemaker. Why I can’t do right by anyone no matter how hard I fucking try.”

  “What makes you so different?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Tidus—”

  “Forget it.”

  “I want an answer,” I said. “It doesn’t make sense. What do you think makes you such a different man from your brothers? They will understand anything, Tidus. They’re family. They’re your blood.”

  His silence twisted my heart. He loomed over me, his voice low and dark.

  “I am not sharing this bullshit with them. They deserve better.”

  “You shared it with me,” I said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?” I reached for his hand. He batted me away, but every beat of my heart promised he wanted nothing more than to pull me in his arms as badly as I longed to be taken in his. “You trusted me with this secret. Why?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Is it because I know you’re not a terrible man? Because you’re not as bad for me or as dangerous as you think?” I shook my head. “You might not be a man who acknowledges shame, but there is a pride in you, Tidus Payne. You wanted me to learn the truth. You didn’t want me to see you as some worthless, drug-addicted piece of shit. And guess what?” I smiled, bright and warm. “Now I know the truth. I know that you want to be a good man.”

  Tidus didn’t answer.

  He pinned me against his chest with a strong arm and stronger grip in my hair. He broke the impact with a heartbreaking kiss.

  A kiss like it was the last time I’d see him again.

  A kiss like it was the first time anyone had ever seen him.

  A kiss like it was the only time it had ever meant a goddamned thing to him.

  He broke away, his voice rough. “Do you know why I almost fucked you that night?”

  I shook my head.

  “I should have fucked you,” he said. “Should have taken you, buried myself inside of you, and stole every last precious fucking second inside of you for my own selfishness.” He kissed me again but pulled away with a groan. “I wanted you, Honey. But I wanted you for the same reason I will never tell another soul about the sobriety.”

  “Why?”

  His voice layered with a sadness that would rend my soul into pieces.

  “Because sex is the only thing I’ve ever done that hasn’t ended in disappointment.”

  8

  Honey

  My first real event in Butterpond would kill me.

  Set up the truck at the church picnic, they said. Nothing can go wrong, they said.

  And so, I’d agreed before I’d learned three crucial facts about Butterpond.

  First—the church’s spring picnic was always the most popular.

  Secondly—this year’s spring picnic was especially anticipated as it celebrated the return of Butterpond’s once wayward minister.

  And third—that some precocious prankster named Spencer Townsend had snuck away during the sermon and pulled the plug on every kitchen appliance that was warming casseroles or chilling jellos.

  And with the sermon ending, the church bells ringing, and the entirety of the town descending on the parish grounds for an afternoon of fun and games, my truck was the only food available in a square mile radius to one hundred hungry and hot Butterpondians.

  It was terrifying.

  It was chaos.

  It was utterly Butterpond.

  Within minutes, the people threw more cash than I’d seen in months at the window of my truck. A small child tapped his sticky hands on my counter.

  “Can I have some cornbread?” He sneezed onto my menus.

  His mother hoisted him into her arms and knocked over the neatly arranged plastic cups filled with disposable cutlery.

  “We need five briskets—one original recipe, one extra crispy, two with sauce on the side, and the last one with extra pickles, extra mustard, and can you mash some potatoes real quick without any salt? Can we get a discount—two of the meals are for the kids. And if you have any toys for them, that’d be perfect.”

  “I—” Words failed me. So did oxygen. I clutched the counter and counted the waiting patrons. Two. Five. Ten. Seventeen. “Um…”

  Another lady meticulously scrubbed my already clean counter with an anti-bacterial wipe before getting close. “My little Aiden has an allergy to soy, dairy, eggs, and gluten—I need to be sure you won’t make him sick!”

  A teenager pushed her to the side and crinkled her nose as she studied my truck. “Do you have anything vegetarian?”

  A father carried a pig-tailed girl on his shoulders and gave an exasperated sigh. “Eva only eats chicken nuggets…do you have chicken nuggets?”

  I swallowed. It did nothing to dislodge the rock in my stomach. “I…can try?”

  Shouting echoed from across the yard. A panting woman still clad in her choir gown raced to the truck, collapsing near the window. The crowd parted for her as she gasped for air.

  “Trouble at the playground!” She cried. “The hot dog eating contest!”

  “What’s wrong, Abigail?” A woman helped her to her feet and pushed people aside. “For God’s sake, give her some space! Let her breathe!”

  “The contest is down to Trisha Taylor and Fat Willie!” Abigail gulped for air. “We’re out of hotdogs and they’re still hungry!”

  “Wait a minute!” I nearly dropped my tray of brisket. “You have hotdogs?”r />
  Abigail shook her head. “Had, Honey. We’re out of hotdogs. We need something else for them to eat! What do you have prepared?”

  “Uh…”

  “Pork…beef…anything!” Abigail pressed her hands to her face in panic. “You don’t understand, Honey! After last year’s Easter salmonella outbreak and the Christmas Gingerbread House Fire, the church can’t handle any more food disasters! The competition has to go on!”

  “Please!” Another woman shouted. “We just got Pastor V back! It has to be perfect!”

  The church wouldn’t take the Lord’s name in vain, but they’d commit barbeque blasphemy with a brisket eating competition? I wouldn’t stand for it.

  I searched the truck, and, with a shrug, retrieved a five-gallon bucket waiting in the corner. “This…is all I have in a big enough quantity…”

  The woman popped the lid. The crowds pressed in then retreated with a groan.

  “Coleslaw?” Abigail peered into the bucket. “It’s just ruffage, but it might slow them down. It’ll have to do!”

  The orders began anew, shouted from increasingly impatient, ridiculously hungry parishioners.

  “How about a sandwich and some mashed potatoes?” A man asked.

  His wife disagreed. “Far too fatty—you need something lean. Like fish. Is there any fish?”

  The people talked over one and other. “How much for the ribs?”

  “What’s a colored green?”

  “I don’t like barbeque sauce—can you put ketchup on mine?”

  “I can’t have onions. If I see an onion, I’ll hurl.”

  And above it all, I heard his laugh.

  Tidus hadn’t gone into the church. Hadn’t helped me set up either. But now he watched the insanity with a gleeful amusement. He’d staked a spot on the side of the truck, just close enough to witness the madness. At least he did a good job thinning the crowd for me.

  He scratched his chin and pointed at the menu. “When you say pulled pork, just what part of the pig are you tugging?”

  It was all fun and games until a hungry churchgoer came at me with a fork.

  I pointed at him. “You. In the truck. Now.”

  That only made him laugh harder. “You gotta be kidding.”

  “I need help.”

  “Good fucking luck.”

  Pretty sure it was a sin to swear on church property, but I was about to freak the H E double-hockey-sticks out.