33. 33
Hayes
Now
A fter spending a very enjoyable morning in bed with Annabelle, we’re running late to meet Dave. So late, in fact, that Annabelle didn’t even have time to take a shower, so she still smells like me.
And the most primitive part of my brain fucking loves that she’s marked with my scent.
When I showed up at her doorstep this morning, I wasn’t sure what kind of reception I’d get, especially after how distant Annabelle had been these past few days.
Bailey assured me after their lunch that she was doing well, but I needed to see it for myself.
The moment Annabelle opened the door, and I felt her happiness at seeing me, it was like the ship had righted itself .
As I drive us into Nashville, my mind drifts back to those brief texts with Grace, how Laura thinks Dave has a crush on Annabelle. And how Annabelle worries Dave might be a creep.
I’m mostly silent on the first half of the drive to the rent house because I’m contemplating the best way to play this. Finally, I settle on honesty.
Flexing my fingers around the steering wheel, I say, “Can I ask you a question?”
Pointing a finger gun in my direction, she says, “Shoot.”
“Grace mentioned that Laura thinks Dave’s interested in you.”
“She told you that! How does she even know?”
I toss her a look of disbelief. “You’re surprised that Grace eavesdrops on your conversations? I think it’d be more surprising if she didn’t, Yankee.”
Annabelle laughs. “Valid point.”
“But back to my question. Did he do something? Grace insinuated that you don’t feel comfortable around him. She called him a curve, which I’m assuming she misheard and intended to call him a perv. That true?”
“He hasn’t done anything overt.” Annabelle swivels in the passenger seat of my truck to face me. “It’s more like a feeling I get when I’m around him. Dave is a little odd, but I think he’s harmless.”
I’m not letting her off that easily. “Odd, how?”
“He watches me. Yesterday, he hovered in my cubicle after our conversation ended and stared at me. I can’t tell if he’s socially awkward, or if he’s… just that desperate to talk to me.” She shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. Like I said, he’s never done anything overtly creepy.”
I disagree. Standing there staring at her seems pretty fucking creepy to me .
“So, you feel comfortable staying in his house? Renting from him?” I press, sensing there’s more beneath the surface.
I feel like she’s holding back and not being completely truthful.
I just can’t tell if she’s withholding it on purpose or if she’s suffering from good old denial.
Wouldn’t be the first time a woman ignored her gut in the name of keeping the peace.
She hesitates for the briefest of moments, but it’s enough for me to recognize that she feels more concern about the situation than she’s willing to voice. “Yes, I do.”
“If you say so,” I reply. “But I don’t like the idea of you living in his house and feeling indebted to the guy, Annabelle. Not if there’s any chance that he has ill intentions.”
“Noted, Hayes.” Her clipped response ends that portion of our conversation. I’m willing to let it drop. For now.
When we arrive, I’m pleased to see that the neighborhood appears quaint and safe. It’s an older, cute neighborhood made up of small, well-maintained 1950s cottages built on nice-sized lots.
Opening the car door for Annabelle, I grab her hand as we walk over to where Dave stands on the front porch, waiting for us since we’re a couple minutes late.
Once I put the face to the name, I realize that Dave is a morning show deejay at the country music radio station. He’s interviewed Outlaw several times over the years. He's always struck me as a quirky dude, but I have to agree with Annabelle's assessment. I don't think he's a creep.
Still doesn't mean I want them to live at his place, though. I'm not taking any chances with my girls' safety.
“Ruston Hayes,” I say, offering my signature crooked smile as I extend a hand.
His eyes widen just a fraction, and I know that he’s recognized me, too.
Good. That’s the point. I want him to know who his competition is.
When Dave takes my hand, I squeeze hard enough to make him wince.
“Nice to see you again, Dave.” As I release his hand, I slide my arm around Annabelle’s waist and pull her to my side, pressing a kiss to her temple.
I’m a territorial asshole, and I’m claiming Annabelle as mine.
She pins me with a pointed look. Yep, she’s onto me, but I don’t care.
Unlocking the front door, Dave backs off and waves for us to go inside. “You can look around. I’ll wait out here in case you have questions.”
The house has a narrow but comfortable living room with large windows and hardwood floors. Attached to the living room is a small dining room with built-in china cabinets in the corners and an antique crystal chandelier.
“It’s got some nice period details,” I remark.
“Yeah, it does.”
From there, we walk into the galley-style kitchen. Cheerful yellow paint covers the wood cabinets, and while the outdated laminate countertops remain, the kitchen boasts updated appliances. It’s workable but cramped, nothing like the gourmet kitchen Annabelle enjoys in her current home.
“I suppose this could work for a few months,” Annabelle comments, eyeing the space.
Backtracking through the dining and living rooms, we walk down a short hallway, poking our heads into the only bathroom in the house. It’s tiny. In the corner, there’s a floor-to-ceiling cabinet with decent storage, but the pedestal sink offers exactly zero counter space.
“How am I supposed to get ready in here? There’s nowhere to put my makeup or blow dryer.”
“Not to mention, there will be three of you all sharing this space every morning. "
When we get to the first of only two bedrooms, she stops in the doorway.
“The girls will have to share a room, which they won’t like.
” Walking into the room, she slides open the closet door to check out the storage space.
When she turns back around to survey the room again, she says, “It’s too small to fit two beds, even twin beds, so I’ll need to buy bunk beds, I guess. ”
“Yeah, not much room for two kiddos.”
The theme of this entire house is small.
It’s going to be an adjustment, moving from a 4-bedroom, 3,500 square foot home into a tiny 2-bedroom, 1-bathroom cottage, even if it’s only for a few months.
They aren’t used to living on top of one another, and it’s going to be tight quarters if Annabelle chooses this house.
She sighs, sounding resigned. “I had hoped that there was enough space to bring in more of the girls’ furniture to make the room feel familiar. I guess I can bring in some of their décor.”
“Have you thought about a storage unit? Whether you choose to temporarily move into this house or somewhere else, you won’t be able to bring all your furniture.”
“Ugh, no, I hadn’t,” Annabelle murmurs, rubbing her forehead. The relaxed Annabelle, who spent the morning in bed with me, is gone, replaced by a much more stressed version of herself. “I’ll add it to my to-do list.”
“I can take care of that for you,” I offer, wanting to take something off her plate.
“Hayes, I can do it.” She tilts her head and puts her hands on her hips, staring at me like that’s going to be enough to stop me.
Spoiler alert: it’s not.
Damn, she looks cute , though.
“I know you can but let me help.”
She continues to glare at me .
I see the moment she caves. Her hands drop from her hips, and the corners of her mouth turn up. “You’re a steamroller, Ruston Hayes.”
I stride forward, gripping Annabelle’s shoulders, as I smile at her.
“Yeah, but I’m your steamroller, Annabelle Morris.
Now let’s go look at the other bedroom. We need to see if your king-size bed will fit.
I’m guessing it won’t. May need to buy a smaller mattress along with the bunk beds.
If you want, we can swing by a furniture store later. ”
I know that if I told Annabelle outright not to rent Dave’s house, she’d be more inclined to do it just to prove a point.
When she got married and had children, she became financially reliant on Kyle. After his death, she had no choice but to stand on her own, and she’s earned that independence the hard way. She’s not about to surrender it easily.
So, no, I won’t tell her what to do. But I’ll be damned if I don’t help her see reason. And reason says moving into my condo is the best plan.
After a strategic pause, I add, “We should probably measure the living room, too. Not sure about your sectional. Might be too large for the space.”
After checking out the primary bedroom, Annabelle releases another sigh. Ticking things off on her fingers, she says, “Bunk beds, a smaller mattress for me, possibly a new couch."
“Doesn’t really make sense,” I muse, “to buy those things when you’ll only need them for a few months.”
“Dammit, this house won’t work for us,” she says, wagging a finger in my face. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you trying to steer me away from this place, Hayes. Just because I’m not going to rent Dave’s house, that doesn’t mean I’m agreeing to move into your condo.”
I hold up my hands. “Didn’t say it did.”
But she will. And once she does, I’m never letting her go .
After we leave Dave’s house, I point the car in the opposite direction of her home.
“Where are we going?”
“My condo.”
She turns her head slowly to the left to look at me. “Why?”
“I have something to show you.”
“Well, that sounds rather mysterious, but I’ll take the bait.” Annabelle continues to eye me with suspicion. “Hayes, if it’s your dick, though…”
I bark out a laugh. “Not my dick, but if you’d like to see it again while we’re there, I’m sure you could persuade me.”
Since I drove straight from the private airfield to Annabelle’s house this morning, I haven’t seen the updates myself yet. Hopefully, everything was finished to my specifications.
When the elevator doors slide open into the entrance of my penthouse, I lead Annabelle through the foyer, past the living room, and down the hallway toward the guest rooms. When I open the first door and switch on the light, I find the room stripped bare, an empty shell without a single piece of furniture.
Annabelle stops short, gasping, “What have you done?”
“I know you have your reservations about moving into the condo, but I wanted to make it as comfortable as possible for the girls, in case you choose to stay here. So, I had everything taken out and put into storage to make room for Grace and Claire’s furniture.
I cleared out two guest rooms, so they can each have their own room. ”
“The room is… pink, Hayes.”
“Oh, that.” I scratch the back of my neck and grimace. I may have jumped the gun. “Yeah, I also had them painted. I tried to pick a color as close to the shade that’s currently in their bedrooms. How’d I do? ”
With an amused huff, she murmurs, “You did well. It’s a close match.” She spins slowly around in the empty room, fully taking in the changes and weighing her options, I hope. “But when did you do all this?”
“A day or two ago. So, what do you think?”
“A day or two ago?” Her eyebrows rise to meet her hairline, incredulous.
Not to sound too brash, but… money talks. You offer the right price, and you can get the job done fast. I don’t want to say that to Annabelle, though, so I just shrug and repeat my question. “So, what do you think?”
“I… I don’t know what to think, Hayes.” She wanders back to the living room and sinks onto the couch. She raises her eyes to mine. “You did all this for me?”
“Well, for you, Grace, and Claire, yeah.”
“Hayes, if I agree, where would I sleep? Did you clear out a guest room for me too?”
I shake my head. “No, Yankee, I didn’t. I want you to stay in my bedroom. Even if I stay at the ranch, I love the idea of you warming my bed.”
“You do, huh?” A shy smile lights up her face. “I like the idea of that, too. Thank you.”
“Stop thanking me just for being nice to you, baby. I love you, and I’d do anything for you.” Dropping onto the couch next to her, I squeeze her hand and lift it to my lips for a quick kiss. "Hopefully, one day you'll start believing that."
“Okay."
"Okay?" Her one-word response is enough to fill me with hope, and I feel happier than I did when Outlaw won our first Grammy .
“But I need to run it by the girls. I want to make sure that they’re comfortable with the idea.”
“Understandable.” My eyes light up as I smile. “I went ahead and got you the swipe cards you’ll need to access the parking garage and the penthouse elevator. Just in case.”
With a laugh, Annabelle rolls her eyes. “Of course you did, Steamroller.”
“Hey, I’m persistent. When I find something—or someone—I want, I go after it. And I’ve wanted you from the first moment I met you, Annabelle.”
She closes her eyes as she blows out a breath. “If we’re going to do this, then there’s also something I need to talk to you about. Something I need to tell you.”
This is it. This is what’s been lingering between us. The invisible elephant in the room with us.
She leans down, picking up her purse from the floor. With nimble fingers, she rummages through it and withdraws a crumpled, worn envelope.
Handing it to me, she whispers, “It’ll be easier if you just read this.”