Wreck Page 3

  “Everything,” he said quietly.

  A blush hit her cheeks. Her lips parted. Her tongue darted out to wet those lips, and he was mesmerized. She knew what he was thinking, but was too polite to say a word about the tension snapping back and forth between them. He was rude enough not to care he made her uncomfortable.

  She finally cleared her throat and glanced away. “How much do you charge?”

  He paused. She actually talked to him. About shit that mattered, so he took a drink of coffee and let it go. “Tell you what. Let’s say, twelve an hour. The first thing that needs to be done is the yard. It will cut down on your mice problem.”

  She frowned. “That’s a good idea, but your price sounds off.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Shouldn’t it be closer to twenty?”

  His brows shot up, and he laughed. “Darlin’, I don’t think that’s how you do business. You’re supposed to talk me down, not up.”

  “I know what things cost and want to be fair. Eighteen.”

  “You’re serious?” The lift of her chin made him chuckle. “How about fifteen cause I require cash.”

  She pondered it then nodded. “Fine.”

  “Let’s get your mouse traps.”

  Chapter 3

  The next day, Shelby sat on the crumbled steps of her house and waited for Ethan. She had no idea if the riding mower in the barn would even start. Like everything else, it probably needed fixing too. So he’d said he would be back with mowers and equipment about noon today.

  Yesterday, he helped her pick out traps and then set them for her. This morning, she checked and sure enough they had caught the biting vermin. She hated being a pansy, but there was no way she was touching them. So she worked in Gran’s room until the time she thought he would show.

  Her knee bounced nervously. Ethan was nothing like what he appeared. He was big. Really big. Looked mean and angry, with all those colorful tattoos covering his arms.

  He’d been nice, smiled and flashed those dimples. They made her utterly stupid. He apologized for scaring her. But then there was that moment in the diner. It still made her squirm. The intensity in his dark eyes and his implication had been clear. She knew she hadn’t read him wrong. But then he’d let it go, and she could breathe again.

  Her parents would flip out if they knew she had befriended someone like him. Correction, someone who looked like him.

  Wait…they were friends?

  She played with the end of her ponytail and smiled softly to herself. He’d helped her, listened to her, and didn’t laugh at her. He didn’t think it stupid that she wanted to fix Gran’s house. She laid her hand on the post with peeling paint. She just couldn’t let it fall apart more. Even if she did sell it, she had to see it made right. No one else seemed to get it.

  He did.

  She’d not had a lot of friends in her life. At least not real ones. Most were her parents’ friends’ kids. Except for Skye. She’d been the only one she had made on her own who didn’t hang around just for her parents’ money. They also hadn’t approved of Skye. Of course.

  Camellia and John always had an opinion about everything she did, made sure to tell her…and she was always doing it wrong. According to them, she was wasting her time and energy on this house. But Gran had given her this, and she would do what felt right. Regardless of what they thought.

  She’d made a decision on her own—it gave her a sense of pride.

  An older truck pulling a trailer loaded with mowers parked in the drive. She stood, slid her hands into her pockets, and watched as Ethan climbed out and strode toward her. She had spent the better part of the day with him yesterday, but somehow she’d forgotten how intimidating he was. And even if he weren’t sporting tattoos, he towered over her own five foot five frame. Then he smiled, and her legs turned to jelly. It wasn’t fair he had dimples like that.

  “Hi,” she said softly.

  He took his shades off and hung them on the front of his shirt. “Something wrong?”

  Embarrassed, she nodded towards the house. “The traps went off.”

  “You caught mice already?”

  She nodded and looked up at him. Staring into those near black eyes, she was darn sure she could get lost there. He was just so…interesting.

  He shook his head. “Let me guess. You don’t want to touch them?”

  “I’m sorry.” She shifted from foot to foot, embarrassed. “I tried, but I can’t. Do you think they suffered?”

  He walked into her house, and she followed him. “No. I’m sure it was quick.”

  He bent down behind the trashcan in the kitchen and picked up the trap. A dead mouse dangled. She took a step back.

  “Oh, the poor thing.”

  His lips quirked in amusement. “Darlin’, you gotta make up your mind. Do you want mice in your house as pets or are they a biting menace?”

  “Fine. Just get them out of here. I can’t look.” She turned her back and huffed as Ethan laughed at her.

  He walked by and wiggled three traps with dangling mice right in front of her. She squealed and jumped back. He banged out of the house, and she heard him laughing from the yard. He was so funny. He came back in and handed her the empty ones.

  “I think you can reset them.”

  She eyed them for mouse guts but bravely took them. “Thank you.”

  “No problem. I’m gonna get to work.” He looked down at her, a one-sided smirk on his face, and was out the door.

  She stood there holding the offending traps and noticed he had to duck to avoid the doorframe. Not a few minutes later, she heard the start of a mower. He certainly wasted no time. Speaking of, she was no closer to getting this mess sorted by standing there thinking about Ethan and the way her insides did this little gooey thing when he flashed those dimples at her. And she wouldn’t even think about that moment at the café.

  She reset the traps and opened up another box. Papers. Most of these boxes were filled with papers. Electric bills, gas bills, and receipts to the local grocery store…it was all thrown in haphazardly. Like she would pay something then toss it in the box. The urge to just trash it without going through them was tempting, but she was afraid she would run across something important.

  She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there going through stuff and tilted her head at the silence. She didn’t hear the mower or weed-eater anymore. She stretched her back, poured two glasses of sweet tea, and walked out onto the porch.

  Her mouth dropped.

  A shirtless Ethan was on his knees pulling weeds out of a flowerbed. A tattoo of a laughing demon covered the left side of his back. The other side was oddly bare, but her eyes got caught on his muscles as he yanked weeds. He looked up, flashed a smile, and she almost dropped the glasses. Those dimples were devastating and so unexpected every time. You’d think she’d be used to them by now. She licked her lips to moisten her suddenly dry mouth.

  “Please tell me that’s sweet tea?” He stood, dusted his hands on his jeans, and moved towards her.

  Sweat ran down his chest in rivulets. More tattoos and…her breath stopped. She zeroed in on a pierced nipple. Rude. She was being positively rude. She couldn’t help it, because like everything else about him, he stupefied her. She could hear her mother’s shrill voice in her head calling him a freak.

  He moved closer and stepped onto one stair. They were eye level as he braced one hand on the wooden post. He hadn’t said anything else, and she was frozen to the spot. Rendered mute, she kept staring rudely. Again. She pried her eyes away from the shiny bar to meet his gaze.

  “Problem?” One dark brow rose in question.

  She swallowed, shook her head, and shoved one glass toward him.

  “Thanks,” he said and took a drink.

  Still flustered, she fixated on the little silver bar that ran through his nipple. It matched the silver in his lip and in his tongue. She opened her mouth to ask, but then clamped it shut and chewed her bottom lip. A faint rumb
le emitted from him. She jerked her eyes back to his face. His jaw tensed, and he had dropped his head a little, his eyes intent on hers.

  “You probably shouldn’t look at me like that.”

  She blinked. “Like how?”

  “Brown Eyes, you’re something.” He raked his hand through his messy spike and took a breath. He set his glass on the porch and walked off. “Thanks for the tea.”

  She frowned then blurted, “Did it hurt?”

  Mortified, she clamped a hand over her mouth. When would she ever learn to not always say whatever was on her mind?

  He turned and grinned.

  “This?” He tugged on the bar. She dropped her hand and gaped. “Only a bit. But it was so worth it to get that reaction from you.”

  At that, she turned abruptly and all but ran into the house. She leaned back against the shut door and tried to calm her erratic breathing. Yes, she was an adult, and yes, she should be able to control her thoughts…if only she could control her pulse. But all she could think about was his kiss last night and knowing she had been pressed flush against him.

  And those tattoos.

  And that pierced nipple.

  She sucked in her lower lip. He might be a friend, but that kiss last night was not a friend kiss. Okay, they didn’t know each other. He was just being chivalrous in his unorthodox way. So maybe she should just forget it. But what about the look he just gave her and the tension at the café? And what did ‘you’re something’ even mean?

  She didn’t want or need another complication in her life. It was easy to forget her life in Houston, and he made it seem that much further away. Or maybe she just wanted to forget that tangled mess anyway?

  Right.

  With a shake of her head, she went back to sorting. Gran was important right now. This was what she needed to be doing. Not thinking about Ethan and his piercings or Houston and that unholy disaster.

  About four in the afternoon, there was a knock at her door, and Ethan stuck his head in.

  “I think I’m done for the day.”

  Startled, she looked up from reading some paperwork and shoved her glasses on her head. “Let me pay you.”

  “Weekly is fine, but whatever you want to do.”

  He stepped into her living room, and she was very glad he had a shirt on. He was distracting enough with clothes on. “I’ll pay you for today, then I’ll pay you again next week. That is if you still want to help?”

  He grinned. “Sure. I haven’t been in Nashville all that long and need the work. I fixed your garage door too. At least you can open and shut it. You might want to think about a garage door opener. I can install it.”

  She pulled some money out of her purse, folded the bills, and handed them to him. He shoved it in his pocket without counting it.

  “Thank you so much. And yeah I will. But um, what kind of opener do I need?” she asked.

  He smirked. “Tell you what, I’ll pick one up and give you the receipt.”

  “That’s probably a better idea. I have no idea what to get.” She followed him outside.

  Earlier, he had dominated her attention, but now she noticed all the work he’d done. Tears pricked her eyes when she saw the yard neat and trim. She walked down the steps and touched the sparse rosebush with only a couple of buds.

  “You need some mulch to help keep those bushes cool, and they should bloom more given a little time and water. Some wood needs to be replaced on the porch, but I won’t know how much damage there is until I pull off a couple of boards.”

  She wasn’t really listening to him and turned full circle admiring the transformation until she faced him.

  “Thank you.” Her heart overflowed with joy, and she knew Gran would have been grinning ear to ear. “I don’t know how to thank you enough.”

  His brows furrowed. “This place means a lot to you.”

  She beamed up at him. “I lived here until I was ten. This was my home. I want to make it right. It’s more than just a house.”

  She didn’t know why she told him. A virtual stranger, but when she looked into his black eyes, she saw understanding. No judgment. No telling her it was just a run-down house not worth the time or effort.

  He stared at her a moment before looking around the place then back at her. “It will take time to make it right, but if that’s what you want, I’ll help if you want me to.”

  She smiled brightly. “I do.”

  He nodded, rubbed the back of his neck, and shifted on his feet. “We got a deal. Give me your phone, and I’ll type in my number.”

  She pulled it out of her back pocket and handed it to him. He typed it in quickly then handed it back. “Text me, and I’ll have yours. I’ll be by in the morn’ if that’s cool?”

  “Sounds good. See you tomorrow.”

  He nodded and took off for his truck. He seemed to be in a hurry, but maybe he had someplace to be. She leaned down and brushed her fingertips over the soft pink petal of the bloom. Hope blossomed that maybe…just maybe, she could fix this broken home even if she couldn’t bring Gran back.

  *

  Ethan sat in his truck and watched her lean down to touch a flower. She turned, and he caught a glimpse of her wistful smile as she looked around the sedate farmhouse. This girl was like no one he’d ever met.

  When he’d walked into her living room, she’d been sitting on the floor with a mess of papers around her and little red glasses perched on her nose. He’d never thought glasses sexy. For some reason, everything she did seemed sexy. Then the way those big eyes teared up when she saw the lawn. She’d looked up at him like he was some sort of savior.

  He snorted. What a joke.

  She was the worst kind of contradiction he’d ever encountered. Nothing seemed cut and dry with her. One moment, he shocked her speechless, the next she looked at him like he’d given her the moon. And not once, even with his tattoos and piercings, did she judge him.

  Morbid fascination flickered across her face when she spotted his nipple ring. It was obvious she couldn’t decide if she should like it or not. Good or bad, he knew by her hitched breathing she wanted to touch him. He itched to let her, but that air of innocence clinging to her wasn’t fabricated.

  Damn shame she was too sweet for him to sully up. But that didn’t stop him from purposely making her blush.

  Twenty minutes later, he backed into his Uncle Mick’s driveway. He unloaded the mower and weed-eater, put them in the shed out back, and walked into the garage where Mick sat lounging on a barstool. Even though three Harley’s sat inside with a workbench and roll around toolbox against one wall, the place looked more like a man-cave den than a garage. Metal signs and posters littered the walls depicting cycles and pin up babes. A dartboard completed the look.

  “That girl okay?”

  Ethan nodded. “Yeah. She’s fine. Thanks for letting me borrow the lawn stuff. Her grass was a foot tall.”

  Mick opened the garage-fridge, grabbed two bottles of beer, and handed him one. Ethan nodded his thanks and took a drink. He’d only known Mick for a short time. Hell, he didn’t even know he had an uncle until Mick found him about six months ago. When they’d met, he’d been amazed at their similarities. Both of them were tall with black hair. It hadn’t taken rocket science to figure out they were related.

  “Nice of you to help her out. She seemed pretty desperate when she came looking for a job,” Mick said.

  Ethan grabbed another stool and sat. “She’s paying me to help her fix up the rest of her place.”

  Mick’s thick brows shot up. “She hired you?”

  “Yup. Guess it was her grandma’s place, and she wants it back the way it was.”

  “I was under the impression she needed money.”

  “Honestly, I have no idea what her story is. The house is a shack, but she drives an Audi. She’s from money. Whether she actually has any, no idea.”

  Chapter 4

  Mick grunted. “Fuckin’ awesome tunes Saturday night, man. I had a feeling you guys
might work out.”

  “Thanks,” Ethan replied. “Thrand is definitely the brains behind it. He has some awesome talent and knows how to make something tick.”

  “He should. He’s been in Nashville since he was nineteen. It was kinda an eye-opener when he played that rock tune for his girl. I knew he could play, but damn. He’s got chops.”

  “He wrote that original, too. Well, him and Zak. Not sure how far we will get in this country scene, but I’d be happy just playing live.”

  “Who knows. Country has loosened up, but not that much.” Mick ran a hand over his slicked back hair. “Speaking of Nashville, I got word that Danny is in town.”

  “Danny?”

  “Your dad.”

  Ethan tensed and took a long drink of his beer. Mick warned him when he came to town this might happen. But he had no family. Wasn’t even sure what family meant.

  “You mean my sperm donor?”

  Mick snorted. “Suppose so. But he’ll figure out you’re here and I imagine will hunt you up. Not hard when you’re living above my garage.”

  When Mick tracked Ethan down, he’d offered the apartment above his garage. It seemed like a good solution. Him and Zak were just spinning their wheels in Georgia, and Zak had been more than happy to get out of there.

  “So are you ever going to talk about her?”

  Ethan met Mick’s somber gaze as the mood shifted. He had asked him countless times, but he never answered the question. Dropping his eyes to his tapping boot, he pondered how much to tell him about Tracy.

  His mom.

  Mick’s sister.

  “What do you want to know?” Ethan downed the rest of the beer and waited.

  “How did she die?”

  Fuck. He would ask that first. He hopped up and dropped the empty bottle in the trash.

  “Overdose.”

  “I knew that. But social services told me you were there.”

  Ethan gritted his teeth. Except for the nightmares he couldn’t control, he never thought about it. He raked a hand through his hair and knew he was going to have to say something. Tracy had been Mick’s older sister. Them losing touch was obviously his mom’s doing. Not Mick’s.