Chapter 14
After another weekof cold showers, Darren dumps a box of tools in the Beautifully Bold backroom and tugs his jeans higher up his waist. They’re filthy, with holes and hanging loose threads up and down the thighs. I eye the paint splatters on his shirt and caked beneath his fingernails.
“Did some painting this morning, did you?”
“You know my Abbie. Ever the creative genius,” he says before heading into the dark, musty room where the hot water tank sits.
I follow close behind, eager to get to the bottom of my freezing water situation. “You can thank her mom for that particular trait.”
“It’s one of the only things I’ll ever thank that woman for,” he replies, now on his knees in front of the tank with a flashlight in hand.
I don’t have a clue what he’s looking for, but this is exactly what brothers are for. To fix all the problems you don’t know how to, even if it’s the last thing they want to do.
“That and for bringing my beautiful niece into the world.”
“I thought that one was a given.”
I kick the sole of his shoe. “Alright, smartass. Let me know if you need any help. I swear, I don’t know what I’ll do if you can’t fix this. My landlord is being such a jerk.”
“I can have words with him if you want,” he offers gruffly.
“He’s too old to be roughed up by you, but thank you.”
“It’s unfair of him to use this as a way to punish you for what you do. You pay him rent every single month. I’d have thought that would be enough for him to stick a sock in his mouth.”
I exhale heavily, done with this battle. It’s a request for a plumber, not an entire interior renovation. Next, he’ll tell me that he’s raising rent and that I can get lost.
“I know. Trust me, I know. But there isn’t much more I can do. Sure, I can call the rental board, but I doubt they’ll help enough to make the effort worth it.”
“You could ask Bryce to talk to someone at the city office?”
Shaking my head, I lean over him and look where he has the flashlight aimed. It’s all pipes and knobs and switches that I don’t know much about.
“Not yet. I don’t want to drag her into this battle.”
“Alright.”
There’s a beat of silence before I ask, “Are you good here for now? I’m going to clean up from this morning.”
“There’s a set of curtains and a rod in my truck. Can you bring them in for me first?”
“Are you planning on fixing the hot water with curtains?”
“Nah, they’re for another problem.”
I set my hand on my hip, curiosity nipping in my chest. “Care to elaborate?”
He tosses a hand behind him, a useless gesture in this small room. “That damn window of yours. I’m covering it up.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I’m tired of listening to the whole fire station chomping off about you.”
My lips pull firm as I blink down at my brother. A piercing flare of anger zips up my spine, some stubborn, proud part of me flinching.
“You’re not covering my window, and it was an asshole move to even suggest that you are. If your buddies can’t keep their eyes to themselves, then that’s their problem. Not mine. Suck it up.”
He stares at me over his shoulder, his eyes swirling with frustration. “Yeah, it is their problem, but I’m still the one hearing about it all the time. The last thing I want to hear when I get into work is how you look in those stupid shorts you like to wear.”
“Again, you can suck it up. This is my space, and I won’t censor myself because of a few horny men.”
“Poppy,” he huffs, clicking off the flashlight and pushing to his feet. “They’re nice curtains. Abbie helped me pick them.”
“Nope. You aren’t dragging your daughter into this. Play fair or not at all.”
“Stop being so stubborn. I’m not asking you to stop dancing. Just to put a curtain up.”
I cross my arms, not giving him a single inch here. No way am I allowing him to push me around, brother or not. I’m not pressing my bare ass up against the window for all to see, and as far as I’m concerned, even if I was, it’s within my rights to do so. I’m not doing anything wrong by dancing on a pole, nor am I doing it for their attention.
“You’ve pissed me off now, Darren.”
“When do I not piss you off?”
“You were off to a pretty good start.”
He sets his hands on his waist and drops his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Forget it, then.”
“I was already planning on it.”
Spinning on my heel, I leave him in the room alone. The window he’s so worried about is right in front of me now, and I glare at it, invisible steam shooting from my ears. I’m moving the moment I see Caleb in the open garage bay.
Darren calls after me when I shove the door to the studio open and storm down the sidewalk. Anna’s car is parked beside mine, Thistle and Thorn directly next door. If I wasn’t in such a rage, I’d stop in and ask for her help with this, but I can take care of this myself.
“Hey, Pops,” Caleb says once he sees me coming. The shift of his casual expression to one of surprise comes a second later once he has a chance to really take me in. “Oh, shit.”
I jab my finger at him, the soles of my sneakers scuffing the uneven pavement. “You better not have been involved in these so-called conversations about me and what I do in the privacy of my own damn studio, Caleb, or I swear to God?—”
“Woah, slow down. You know better than to think I’d have anything to do with all that,” he says stiffly, sounding offended.
Realistically, I do. The guy’s been happily married for forever, but the hurt and frustration rolling through me doesn’t seem to care much about it.
“Fine,” I mutter before pushing past him into the garage bay.
The fire truck is wet, red paint gleaming in the sun as three volunteers scrub the side with thick, wet sponges. I’ve never gotten to know most of these firefighters on a personal level. It’s hard not to recognize every face in a town this small, but sometimes, that’s the end of it. I can’t say I’m regretting not wasting my time speaking to them much when they’ve been too busy running their mouths off about me and my body.
All three of them are staring at me as I close the space between us. Their eyes bulge when I continue right for them.
“Which of you has been watching me in my window and then blabbing about it? I don’t even want to know what you’ve said because I’m sure I’d be appalled, but I do want to know why you feel comfortable enough to do it, especially around my brother!” I shout, chest heaving.
“What the fuck, Darren?” one of the guys yells, staring right past me.
I forcefully clear my throat and step into his view, waving both my hands in front of him. “Why are you talking to my brother right now?”
“I don’t know what Darren told you, but I haven’t said shit,” a different guy says.
“Me either,” the third blurts out, taking a step backward, away from the scene I’m causing.
So that leaves one, at least one who’s at the station right now. God knows how many others there are that are off today.
I bare my teeth at the red-haired guy in front of me, the one still shooting daggers over my shoulder instead of looking directly at me.
“So, what? You’ll only look at me when I’m on a pole but not right in front of you wearing appropriate clothes?” I ask, seething in a way I haven’t since I heard the first negative comment about my studio years ago. “As if I don’t have enough to worry about! You’re just as bad as my old-as-shit landlord!”
Maybe my red-hot response to this has more to do with the ongoing judgment I face in Cherry Peak than what Darren requested of me, or maybe it doesn’t. Maybe I’m just sick and tired of men feeling brave enough to run their mouths about others—especially women—simply because they can and believe there’s nothing wrong with it.
Finally, the guy gifts me with his full attention. The annoyed curl of his lip has my fingers curling into a fist. “If you don’t want an audience, maybe don’t give us a show, sweetheart. I ain’t gonna apologize for looking.”
I’m vaguely aware of the footsteps behind me, the pace of them obviously too quick to be a casual walk. But I don’t particularly care about who’s watching. Let this serve as a warning for everyone in Cherry Peak.
He doesn’t have a chance to protect his face before my knuckles crunch his nose. There’s no squirting blood like I’d hoped, but it does begin to trickle from his left nostril the moment I drop my arm and stare at his shocked form.
“Poppy?”
I snap my teeth at the guy I’ve just punched and allow the hands now gripping my arms to shift me away, turning me in the opposite direction. My smile falls when I take in the full expanse of the man bending slightly in front of me, his green eyes brutally cold as they drift over my face.
“What are you doing here, Garrison?”
And why does your touch on my arms make my heart stutter when it should be doing anything but?
Seeming to read those thoughts at the same time I think them, he lets me go and straightens his posture.
“What am I doing?” he asks incredulously. “What did he do to earn that punch?”
“Nothing!” the guy mutters, his voice nasally from the pinch of his fingers on his nose.
Garrison shifts those cold eyes away from me and onto him instead. The guy quivers beneath the weight of that stare, suddenly not as brave as he was in front of me. I get a sick sense of satisfaction from that, even while it annoys me that it took Garrison’s presence to make him squirm the way he deserves.
“What did you say to her?” Garrison demands, the deep, angry sound of his voice making my nipples hard.
Not the place, Poppy. It’s only been three days.
“They’re just a bunch of pigs,” Caleb says from behind us, calm enough to try and soothe the situation over. “Brock doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.”
“I’d rather be a pig than a rat,” Brock snaps, his attention locked on my brother’s approaching form.
“I’d watch your mouth around my sister unless you want missing teeth next,” Darren warns him.
Brock glares daggers at me. “This is ridiculous. I could press charges.”
I grin wickedly. “Try it. I’ve always wanted to spend a night in a jail cell.”
Maybe if I’m bad enough, Garrison will bail me out, and I can pay him back by letting him spank me silly.
The man taking up too much space in my brain right now pulls his shoulders back and moves a step closer to Brock. My brother shifts his stance, as if he’s uncomfortable not being the one to intimidate the guy who’s upset me, and narrows eyes brimming with suspicion on Garrison. My stomach swirls at that look.
I brave a glance behind me and find Johnny lingering by the old pickup truck I taught Garrison how to drive. He waves at me, fidgeting on the sidewalk. With a thumbs-up, I make him smile before turning back around.
“You’re not going to press charges because I’ll have your statement trashed before it ever lands on a desk. Forget this happened so I won’t have a reason to begin rooting through every little thing you’ve ever done in your life. And you’ve done quite a few things you wish you hadn’t, right?” Garrison asks, his deep voice dagger sharp yet soft in a terrifying way.
“I’m sure he’s already forgotten about this,” Caleb answers for Brock.
Garrison doesn’t back away yet, though. “I’m right, aren’t I, Brock?”
“Just back the fuck away from me and I’ll let it go. Shit, this was all too much,” he blubbers, the blood flow from his nose staunched.
I smirk at him, my head tilting slightly. “Keep your eyes to yourself and your lips zipped and we won’t have another problem. Make sure you give the same advice to the others. I’d hate to damage my knuckles.”
My brother and Caleb both step away from the three volunteers, but I wait until Garrison faces me, the ice melting bit by bit in his gaze, before following after them. I keep my pace slow, not bothering to give Caleb another second of my time as he lingers at the station. I fall into step with Garrison.
“What did he say about you?” he asks lowly, keeping a small distance between us on the sidewalk.
“I’m not sure what he said, exactly. Something regarding my dancing and the clothes I wear while I do it. I never asked for specifics. Apparently, I should be hanging curtains to keep them from gawking in the window. Maybe I overreacted.”
“You should have punched him lower” is all he says.
“Seriously?”
“What?”
“You’re not going to chastise me for it? Say I should have let it go?”
“Is that so surprising? What right do I have to chastise you for standing up for yourself?”
I open my mouth and then close it back up. Uncertainty pricks at me. “You don’t have the right, but . . .”
“But you assumed I’m such a stick in the mud that I wouldn’t approve?” He finishes the thought for me.
“I heard about your reaction to Brody punching Anna’s ex.”
“Brody is my employee. I have to put his public image above all else.”
“You threatened that guy for me,” I mutter.
A heavy pause. “I threatened him because he deserved it.”
“Would you have really gone through with it?”
“Which part?”
“All of it.”
Johnny flashes a smile at the both of us as we get closer to the curb, and I know my window of opportunity is closing fast. Once we reach Johnny, Garrison will be done talking about this, and fuck me, I want him to answer me. It shouldn’t matter whether he meant it or not. But God help me, I won’t be able to let it go if I don’t know for sure.
Risking the chance that my brother is watching, I circle Garrison’s wrist with my fingers and tug softly, just enough to catch his attention. He stalls his steps, shifting to shield me from the view of everyone at the fire station. It’s only Johnny behind us now, watching as I peer up at Garrison, and that’s a hell of a lot better than my brother.
“Answer me,” I push against my better judgment.
He swallows, holding my stare in a way that sends shivers down my spine. I let him see my reaction.
“I’d do a lot worse than what I threatened him with, Poppy. And I don’t know if that makes me a bigger fool for risking it or you for asking in the first place.”