Chapter Six
Neal
Before the shitstorm that hit me after my wife's death, I would never have guessed in a hundred years that I’d be held hostage by a teenager.
But here I was. Totally fucked.
Madeline tapped her foot on the ground, happily chomping a wad of gum as Church glanced around the close quarters of the store.
“Why are we here again?” I asked, running a finger down the seam of a navy blazer that Madeline had just thrust into my arms.
“Because you like my mom.”
My stomach flipped over. I wasn’t sure whether it was because of how close that was to the truth, or the fact that Madeline was now eyeing a loudly printed button-down that I would rather burn than wear. I cleared my throat. “Everyone likes your mom. She’s very likable.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be obtuse. You know what I mean.”
“I don’t.”
“You like her. I can tell. And while you’ve got this whole rugged, sad-puppy thing going that maybe she’ll love, it’s time to make you over a little.”
Church coughed into his hand, clearly disguising a laugh. I glared at him before turning my attention back to my captor. “What does that mean?”
Madeline held up three fingers, ticking them down with each word. “Hair. Clothes… Then we’ll get to work on your sunshine demeanor.”
I glanced down at myself. “I’ve always been like this.”
“Have you always looked like this?”
“No,” I answered honestly before I could check myself. But I was being truthful. Before I’d given everything up, I’d been happy in my body, my clothes, my house. I thought I knew what I wanted, and I’d loved what I did for a living.
But now, well, I was a worthless shell of that man. And for good reason. Finding out that she’d taken not only the best years of my life, but everything that was about to be my future in one swoop had been too much. It had been easier to walk away, to turn into nothing.
Madeline grinned, looking suddenly like her mother. “Consider it my gift to you, for saving my mom.” She held up a credit card, waving it slightly in front of my face.
“I refuse to let a child pay for me.”
Madeline swatted the air, a laugh filling the room. “Oh God, of course not, I stole this from my uncle. He’s a money hoarder and has more of it than God. He won’t even notice.”
“Which uncle?”
Madeline grinned at me, the picture of mischief. “Will.”
I grinned a little. “Alright, I can get behind that.”
“Really?”
I shrugged, my arms full of clothes. “Really, really.”
She squealed, grabbing my elbow and towing me farther inside the store. Several hours, countless hundreds of dollars later, we strolled farther down the street. Madeline was sandwiched between Church, who turned out to be quite an entertaining shopping partner, and me as we neared our final stop.
I groaned. “Can’t we just do a barber? This place looks over-the-top expensive.”
Madeline appeared to not hear me, rubbing her hands together with gusto. “Okay, so here we go, the final step.” That was all the warning I was given before we tumbled into the sleek, freshly scented salon. Madeline guided me straight to the reception desk.
“Neal Crowe, I’d like you to meet Zach, Church’s husband. He owns the whole salon.”
An attractive redhead, slender and smiling, approached. I shook the man’s hand, reaffirming the introduction before Zach stepped around me to press a kiss to Church's stern-looking jawline.
“It’s a pleasure to help, Mr. Crowe. When JR told me about what happened to you and Penny—well, I’m just so grateful to hear you’re feeling better.”
“Me too, I guess,” I said, feeling the iron-clad grip of the salon owner as he ushered me back towards his chair.
Flipping a black liner over me, Zach caught my horrified look in the mirror and grinned widely. “You leave the rest of this to us. We’re going to get you all set up, hero-style.”
“I’m no hero.” I stated dryly.
Zach looked at me sharply. “Whatever you say, Mr. Crowe.”
And so, I was brought into the strange inner workings of the Madeline Media family, sitting in the styling chair for well over an hour as I was trimmed, shaved, styled, and polished from a variety of hands and voices. Madeline was there, answering some questions about her most popular video blogging channel that she still ran alongside her normal schooling. Zach and Church chatted occasionally, the bigger man finally calming when it seemed that I had given up and was going to let the youngest Dougherty make all the choices today.
I was clearly no danger to her while pinned down and half-shaved.
And while I was obviously on the outside of this group, there was something so calming about the easy companionship. It had been such a long time since I was a part of anything so wholesome that my chest ached, and I found myself almost disappointed as I stood up from the chair.
Madeline started, her mouth an O as she stared at me. “Holy shit.”
“Language, young lady,” Zach reminded her, jabbing the air with a comb before stepping forward to brush some rogue strands of hair off my shoulders. “But you did have the right idea. Holy shit, Mr. Crowe, you’re a total fox.”
I frowned, and they all laughed, even Church.
“Look in the mirror, Neal.”
I ducked, leaning into the chair once more so I could look into the mirror that they’d used to get me to this point. The face staring back was shockingly familiar and strange at the same time. There were the same dark eyes, the same dimple, but they were easier to see now that the layers of overgrown beard, the too-long curls were gone.
I was me again. The me from before everything happened. And for a long moment, I waited for the fear, the grief to kick in, but it didn’t. Only a strange excitement. Something new was happening, and for the first time in a long time, I couldn’t wait to see what happened next.
***
Penelope
I bit my lip, staring down into the swirling steam. I’d been waiting all day for this bath, and I was almost bouncing with excitement. Moving my wineglass to the bamboo tray situated across the tub, I dropped my robe.
Whatever Madeline had cooked up for Neal and Church was taking forever. She’d texted me a few minutes ago saying that they were running even later than expected, quickly followed with a myriad of emojis and exclamation points that I took as she was enjoying herself. Knowing I had more time to soak in a little bit of extra peace, I had headed straight to the tub. I swung my legs over, hissing at the heat of the water. Just me, my favorite chardonnay, and vanilla-scented bliss.
I leaned back, balancing a little precariously as I reached for my neck pillow. Snagging it, I wobbled and realized I’d made a horrible miscalculation. With a splash, I slid into the water, and before I could stop myself, I shrieked out a protest, the hot water shocking my skin and sending me flailing. My towel fell to the floor, and my glass of chardonnay tumbled to the marble and shattered.
I gasped, rolling over in the tub and stared, groaning, over the edge at the mess I’d made. “God, I’m such a mess sometimes.”
“Penny,” the rasped word was enough to send goose bumps flying down my skin. I forget about everything else around me. My entire focus was on the man who was standing in my now-open bathroom door. My heart fluttered, hard. It was Neal, but not quite the Neal from this morning.
This man had freshly styled hair, the silver and black hairs blending together, the slight wave to them still evident. His chest was heaving under a fitted black button-down and light-gray slacks. A pair of black boots made a solid noise as he stepped into the bathroom. He watched me, eyes dark and worried.
“Neal…” I swallowed, dropping farther into the water. I knew he couldn’t see everything from his perspective, but still, my skin tingled as his Adam’s apple bobbed. He couldn’t seem to look away.
“Are you alright? I heard a lot of noise.” His voice was so rough that I actually shivered.
“I, uh… I slipped, and the water was hot.” I sounded like an idiot. But somehow, no other words came to mind. He looked—God, he looked handsome. Those sharp brows, the way his jaw clenched as he watched me. “I’m fine.”
Neal’s eyes flickered lower, and my nipples tightened to hard peaks. “The glass?”
“My wineglass,” I said, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment as Neal suddenly bent, looking at the floor around the tub.
“You can’t stay in there,” he said, his voice low.
“I know.” I wrapped my arm across my chest, embarrassment making my cheeks hot. “You can leave now. I’ll pick up.”
Neal tilted his head, and incredibly, he stepped closer. “I’m not letting you get out of there like this. You’ll cut your feet.”
“I’ll be fine, Neal,” I said, watching him move even closer. I squeaked, shy even after our scalding encounter on the couch yesterday. “And in case you weren't aware, I’m naked in here.”
He mimicked my move, crossing his arms as well. “Pull that towel down if you’re worried, Penny. But I’m not letting you out like this. You have ten seconds until I pull you from that water myself.”
I blinked up at him, shocked by his bold words. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me, Penelope. Nine.”
“I'm not getting out of here with you here.”
His smirk sent a bolt of heat straight between my thighs, even as I prepared to argue this further. But instead of speaking back to me, Neal slowly approached, avoiding the glass pieces that covered the floor. His eyes never left mine, even when I knew he could look down and see everything in the rapidly dissipating bubbles. He reached out with one hand and gripped the fluffy towel that was hanging just out of reach. Carefully, he lowered himself until he was at my eye level once more.
“You’re going to stand up—right now, Penny—and let me carry you out of here.”
I licked my lips. “Why?”
“Because if you get hurt, it’ll break me. And if you continue to fight me, I’m going to spank that perfect little ass of yours until you remember who takes care of you.”
I swallowed, my pulse fluttering as I slowly, carefully nodded.
“Now…” Neal stood again, holding the towel up between us. “Who takes care of you?”
Heat pounded through my body. “You do.”
“That’s right,” he hummed, firm hands wrapping the towel around my midsection as I held it completely still. “Let's get you somewhere safe.”
With a soft noise, I was swept up, Neal's arms wrapping around me from the sides and lifting me up until the side of my body was pressed against his chest.
“Oh no! I’m getting your new clothes wet.” I squirmed for a moment. “And Neal, your stitches… I’m going to hurt you!”
There was a soft grunt. “Do you think I care about that?”
“Not really, no.” I fingered the hemline of my towel.
His chest rumbled in a soft laugh. “And you’d be correct.” Neal carried me quickly through the bathroom, stopping by the door to toe out of his boots before continuing into my bedroom. With extreme caution, he set me on the bed. The towel pulled a little between us, and I froze as my nipple slipped free.
Neal’s expression never faltered, his chest matching mine, breath for breath, as one hand slowly rose, the backs of his index finger brushing over my nipple as it puckered.
“So fucking pretty. But then, I knew they would be.”
I groaned, my legs falling open a little as Neal’s fingers continued lower, brushing across my exposed ribs for a moment. “And soft, so incredibly soft.”
“Neal…” I was breathless, my body arching towards his hands.
His hand dropped between us, and for a moment, I worried that he was going to leave, but instead his hands moved to his shirt, undoing the first button, then the second.
“You know what I thought about when they trimmed my beard?”
“What?” I stuttered as Neal’s hands landed on my thighs and slowly eased their way up under the towel.
“That I couldn't wait until I had this pretty pussy all over it.”
I moaned, my fingers on the towel falling slack as Neal’s hands continued upwards, his nails rough against my soft skin. “You can’t say things like that…”
“Oh, I can, and I will. You might be the boss outside of this house, Penelope, but when you’re here, in my hands, under my mouth, I’m in charge.” He slipped his hand between my thighs, grazing my slit with one thick finger. “Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
“Good, now spread those thighs, darling. I’ve been waiting all day to taste you.”