12. Thayer
Chapter Twelve
Thayer
“No, One. I’m busy and can’t run it over. Where are you? Why would you leave the sample? Fine, I’m coming.”
Damn it. I really don’t want to run into Hardy. It’s like One knows and wants to make me miserable. Then again, maybe I just need to do it, get it over with. Like a band-aid, rip it off.
Hardy’s jerked me around so much, I feel as though I have whiplash. The shit he pulled Saturday finished me. I’ve whined and cried long enough. He’ll never get over his aversion of One being my brother. What the fuck ever.
After picking up the paint samples for One, I drive over to Lea’s.
We’ve gotten to know each other lately, and I like her a lot.
The more time I spend with her, the more I love her.
I can quickly call her my friend. I’d like nothing more than for her to become my sister-in-law.
Lea would be suitable for One, so much better than his ex-wife, Montgomery. She was such a cunt.
Taking the final turn before Lea’s house, I throw up a silent prayer. If at all possible, my heart can do without seeing Hardy. Parking my truck, I take a much-needed breath before getting out. Quickly scanning the area for him, I see One through the front door.
Thinking I’d spend the day in the office ordering supplies for my next job, I didn’t dress up. An old college t-shirt and cut-off denim jeans with my old, ratty Chuck’s is the attire for the day. My hair is piled high in a messy bun.
Speed walking to the porch, I take the steps two at a time.
Glancing around, I don’t see either of them now.
Another minute affords me the chance to hear them; she’s giggling.
It’s sweet, helping to bring a smile to my face thinking of One.
Meandering the path to the back bedroom, I finally find both One and Lea.
After making lunch plans with Lea, I dispense some much-needed advice to them. Smug in my accomplishment, I’m leaving in a fog when I trip over something. Throwing my hands out in front of me to try to catch my balance, I’m surprised when I never hit the ground.
Massive arms are wrapped around my waist, hauling me upright. By the warmth spreading through me, I know before looking it’s Hardy. Mother fucker, I want to be angry. Why can’t I be mad as hell?
Instead, I throw my elbows wildly until I land a couple. “Mother fucker, get your goddamn hands off me, you prick.”
“Calm the fuck down, Thayer,” he growls in my ear as he somehow wraps my flailing arms with his.
His chest is unyielding against my back, so much, so our bodies begin to meld. Hard as my mind says fight, my heart won’t let me. Wanting to be right here, in his arms, feeling him this close to me, is all I need. The hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention when he leans closer to whisper.
“You’ll never understand how sorry I am.” Then he releases me as quickly as he says it.
Pushing off of him, I whirl immediately, pinning him with a glare of death.
I’m not sure who I’m angry at, him or myself, for wanting it.
Fisting my hands, I swing without thinking it through.
He catches the first punch, dodging the second.
When he does, his head catches the corner of an exposed board.
“What the fuck, Thayer. Shit. Calm the fuck down,” he demands as his hands grip my wrists. Above his left ear, blood trickles from his hair. I feel like shit.
“Oh, God. Hardy, I’m sorry. Come here.” Pulling him slightly, he hesitates, then finally relents.
“Come on, we’re drawing attention. I have tissues in my truck.” Letting go of one hand, he loosens his grip on the other.
Releasing my hand as I yank my door open, I lean in to grab the tissues. A guttural sound from behind me helps to remind me I’m bent over the seat in front of Hardy with my cheeks hanging out. Oh, well. I smirk as I wiggle my way back out, helping me to grind against him.
“Oh, sorry. Didn’t realize you were so close.” I twist to face him. Tiptoeing, I look at his head. “Here, let me get the blood off to see if you need stitches.”
Leaning in to apply pressure, I lose my balance. As I begin to sway, I place my hand on his chest. No doubt about it; we both jolt from the current that runs through us. Our eyes lock, making me bite my lip to hold back the audible gasp.
“I’ll, ah, sit down if it makes it easier.” He’s so close he can almost whisper it to me.
“Oh, yeah. It would make it easier to see.” Snapping out of the trance his beautiful green eyes have put me in, I step to the side, letting him sit on the door well of my truck.
No way can he be comfortable, but prying eyes will have a hard time seeing or hearing anything like this.
So I step between his legs, holding his face with one hand, and apply a little pressure to his cut.
Lifting it up every so often to check it.
“There, it’s just about to stop. You need some antiseptic and a butterfly Band-Aid. Where’s the first aid kit?” I ask, stepping away to look at him.
“One’s truck.” His face is pulled tight, making his eyebrows slant down, forming the v between his eyes.
“Okay, be right back. Keep pressure on it, please.” I hurry to One’s truck, grabbing the kit before this becomes a scene.
“Got it. Put your head down a little.” Parting his hair as best I can, I apply antiseptic and a small butterfly Band-Aid.
“There ya go. Try not to move too quickly or hit it again. It may not have needed stitches this time, but I would still be careful.” Taking his face in my hand, I gaze into his eyes at war with his heart and mind.
“It’s not that easy, Thayer. Try to understand.” There it is, the look when he speaks from his heart. Soft, green eyes telling me, pleading with me to not give up.
“Never said it was, just wanted the chance to try. You do understand you’re worth the effort, don’t you, Hardy?” I find myself searching his face for any sign that he comprehends what I’m saying.
“How are you so sure?” he asks as he regards me closely.
“I’m not, but my heart keeps telling me to try.
So if you could stop running, I’d appreciate it.
” I kick his foot with my own. “All you need to do is be here and be honest. Stop telling me what I need and don’t need.
I’m damn well prepared to handle that myself.
I want you. We’ll figure out the rest.” I smile at him, hoping he’ll reciprocate, and he smirks when I wrinkle my nose at him. Gotcha.
“And your brother? Your family, what are we going to tell them?” He’s crossing his arms like his defense is solid. So I roll my eyes and lean in.
“My family loves you, as does One. They’ll be fine. One is like any other big brother, but he loves you too.” Close enough to kiss him, I wait. I want to know he wants it.
“He loves you more.” Narrowing my eyes, I agree but only for a brief second.
“True. But if I’m happy, he’ll be happy. So make me happy, damn it,” I giggle my response to him.
Hardy snakes his arm around my waist, dragging me closer. I’m lost. His touch is all I want; his love is all I need. Laying my hands on his biceps to keep from climbing him, I wait.
“We’re gonna get caught, Thayer, then what.” He’s digging his fingers in the small of my back with every word.
“We can be free,” I answer with a sly grin.
Our mouths collide, melding together in a frenzy of desire as we show the other our true feelings. My reason to trust. Our reason to love. Kissing him surely is a sin. Thank God I can ask for forgiveness because I’m not asking for permission.
Breaking our contact, we breathe heavily. Moving his lips up to my forehead, he kisses it sweetly. I’m sure he’s checking to see if anyone is watching. I hope One finds out sooner rather than later, but I’m locking him down until then.
“I need to go. Come over tonight; I need to see you.” Pulling away, I make room for him to stand. We exchange places, and he helps me get in my truck, closing the door behind me.
“Alright. But to talk. We need to talk.” Serious Hardy has returned, yay.
“Of course, I agree. Bring clothes,” I answer with a cocked eyebrow and a huge grin.
Backing out of the drive, I take one last look at him, watching me, praying he’ll do as he’s promised. My stomach flips as the butterflies whirl around. To be honest with me, the feeling is about more than him coming over. It’s about trust.
I’ve never dealt with trust issues, didn’t have to. Hardy’s the only guy I’ve been around to do this shit. I haven’t dated much, and if ever I felt there was a problem, I moved on. There was never a time I felt like I wanted to work on anything with someone.
Hardy’s feelings of inferiority come from his upbringing; I suppose.
It couldn’t have been a good life, at least not for a kid.
When we met, he told me of the years he spent on the streets.
Most of the time, he slept outdoors. Eating every few days, showering, or clean clothes came every week or so, sometimes longer.
I don’t think I’ve been dirty a day in my life; I couldn’t imagine being hungry as well. How awful for anyone to have to deal with that, let alone a child. I know most don’t consider runaways homeless, but there are times people have to leave.
Nevertheless, growing up on the streets is no place for a child, no matter the age.
No human being should have to live like an animal.
My heart breaks thinking of Hardy without food.
Dirty, sleeping in an alley or park. How can people be so cruel to see homeless children in need and not help? It baffles me.
I’ve never thought about it before, but Hardy must have his own trust issues too.
People have always let him down or tossed him to the side as if he didn’t matter.
As if his life were expendable. Surely he knows I wouldn’t allow anyone to treat him that way.
Hell would freeze over before it’d happen.
Of course, there’s One. He’s so freaked out that One will have a meltdown. If I know anything about my brother, it’s that he’s a good person. Even if we didn’t work out, One wouldn’t take it out on him. He’s not like that in the least. Hardy and I are adults; One will understand that at some point.
Watching nightfall on my back deck, doubt creeps in.
Hardy hasn’t shown yet. I’m not sure why I keep giving him chances; any other guy would’ve been cut off by now.
We don’t have a history together to explain this need I’ve developed for him.
It runs deep, and for whatever reason, he’s a part of me.
My phone buzzes with a text. I rush to look at it, rolling my eyes at my lack of control. I smile wide when my eyes land on his name.
Hardy: Hey.
Hardy: Thayer. Talk to me.
Hardy: I’m outside.
I make him sweat it a few before answering him.
Me: Who is this?
Hardy: WTF? Who’s it supposed to be?
Me: I have a few friends, so I’m not sure.
Hardy: Thayer.
Laughing as I open the front door, he stands there looking at his phone.
His eyes snap up once he realizes I’m standing in front of him.
He’s freaking hot. Black, beat-up jeans with a black, sleeveless Panthers t-shirt.
My nostrils flare when I take a much-needed ragged breath, his cologne, clean and masculine, finishing me off.
His green eyes are dark, although there’s a spark in them, still making them shine. He pulls the side of his mouth into a crooked grin, leaving me breathless and in need. Without a word, he moves inside the door, shutting it behind him.
It’s then I see he’s brought a duffle bag, and my eyes flicker between it and his gorgeous face. I watch as his smile fades, replaced with a dark desire burning inside him. My mouth goes dry just from looking at him, and the feeling in my core intensifies.
I hear his bag hit the floor about the time his hands grab me. His body presses against mine as he takes my mouth. Forcing his way between my lips with such wanton power, I can only moan my appreciation for his enthusiasm.
Toeing his Chucks off with slight separation between us, he moves fluidly toward me. Pushing me against the wall, his knee wedged between my thighs. The friction ignites a fire in my core, burning me with sexual angst. I need to feel him in me. I want him to fuck me.
As I wrap a leg around him, he doesn’t wait for another vantage point. He slides his hands under my ass and hauls me up to his rigid torso. I curl my other leg around his waist as he carries me to my bed.