6 - Lauren
Lauren
The next week was laid out with iron-clad precision. Brock explained that this time would be used to finish all the general repairs that needed to be checked off before they could start any heavy renovation work.
I was excited to finally get started but nothing prepared me for the practical experience of having three men work in the firehouse while I still tried to maintain a normal daily routine.
On a random Wednesday morning, I was treated to a cacophony of clanking, hammering, thuds and banging and I could only imagine what was going on downstairs.
I peeked over the railing occasionally to see them moving in and out of the front door carrying various pieces of equipment.
Brock had briefly gone over their agenda but I was only interested in ensuring I had the top floor to myself while I attempted to work out.
I picked a room that I'd already decided would be turned into a home gym and was starting to work up a sweat with only a pair of dumbbells at my disposal when I felt the unmistakable feeling of eyes staring at me.
I put the dumbbells down, then spun around only to find none other than Rafe standing in the doorway, leaned up against the frame as though he lived here. My body burned beneath his gaze, all the intensity he always carried in their depths now shamelessly devouring me from head to toe.
I was still revved up from the session, sweaty and panting and certainly not in the mood to verbally spar with this asshole right now. The pounding in my chest didn't ease up.
“You lost?” I challenged, one hand going instinctively to my hip. I was not going to be made to feel embarrassed or awkward in my own home.
I didn't know what to expect from Rafe, but if he was checking me out, I figured he may as well get a good, long look because this was all he was ever going to get from me.
His eyes dipped down slowly, tracing every curve of my body, then retracted back up to my unimpressed face. He didn't look embarrassed either. In fact, he looked completely unfazed.
“No.” The word was short but rough.
“Ah. So, you do know your way around? That's funny, considering you skipped out on the inspection yesterday without so much as a word,” I said airily. “Where were you anyway?”
A wicked smile curved his mouth, a single dimple pressed into his cheek. “Aren't you curious. Why, d'you miss me?”
I heaved a breathy laugh of disbelief. This son of a…
And to think he had the audacity to come and find me here, interrupt my workout and then try to rile me up this way. I glowered at him, watching his shoulders tense in the seconds he realized I wasn't going to entertain him further.
If he wanted attention from me, I was going to leave him starving for it. I shook my head, picked up my water bottle from the floor and stalked past him to go shower.
“Hey,” he started, caught off guard by my sudden departure but I didn't so much as falter half a step, not even when my shoulder accidentally brushed his bicep and the resulting spark of electricity skittered across my skin like a live wire.
I kept my head locked on target in front of me until I'd grabbed a change of clothes and finally made it to the retreat of my now-functional bathroom.
Behind the closed door, I dropped my things and dragged a hand down my face. What was that? Who did this man think he was?
I couldn't stand him.
Every time I thought of Rafe, I was reminded of the way he'd attempted to accost me outside Stella's. I thought of his callous tone and dumb ego and entitlement to demands he had no damn business making. It drove me crazy.
I stepped into the shower before the water even ran hot, letting the stream coax the tension from my sore muscles.
It wasn't just the stress of the renovation job, it was having him in my house.
I'd been able to ignore him somewhat over the last few days, and with Brock being steady and dependable as a rock and Callum being nothing less than a ray of sunshine, it was easy for me to forget about Rafe.
But he came in like a thundercloud, a storm that just disrupted everything in its path with that stupid, gravelly voice of his.
And those stupid, intense eyes that never seemed to take anyone as seriously as he took himself.
He had this way of goading me into a sparring match with just that look alone.
And then there was that stupid bike, the smell of his leather jacket, the light tinge of diesel that mixed with his cologne…
I dropped my head gently against the shower tile.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Why was my heart still racing like this?
Annoyance, maybe, but I didn't want Rafe to have even that little power over my emotions. Anger? I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut.
I should just stop thinking about him. He was an attention whore, clearly. He got off on knowing he had me twisted in knots so the best thing to do would be to pretend he was a nobody. And yet…
I opened the faucet wider and let the torrential spray drown out my thoughts.
*
Escaping the noise of the house and getting a breath of fresh air was exactly the fix I needed. After the shower, I headed out with hopes to take a very quick walk down the street and cool off.
But I'd no sooner stepped off the driveway when I noticed a strange man walk up to my door and tack a flier to it. I squinted and immediately headed back just as he finished.
“What’s this?” I asked, taking it right off the door and scanning over the sheet of paper.
“Hey!” the man protested, half-heartedly attempting to grab the flier out of my hands.
“I live here so I assume I'm the intended audience,” I said, trying for brevity. But the man's sullen expression extinguished whatever lightness I was hoping to achieve. More so when I read the contents of the page.
The flier gave out information about a community meeting with the local historical preservation group regarding the firehouse. That on its own would've been one thing but the tone of the messaging was another altogether.
I tore it up right in front of the man, an act that effectively launched him right into a temper tantrum.
“Who the hell do you think you are, waltzing into this neighborhood and desecrating a 19th century landmark just for the sake of your silly little hobby, huh?” His breath was foul, and it assaulted my senses as he reared his face too close to mine.
His voice was serrated at the edge, and suddenly this wasn't funny or annoying anymore. It was scary.
I took a step back and he moved with me.
“Sir, if you don't back up right now—”
“You'll do what? Don't think for one second that the entire community isn't on the same side of this issue.” He took another step closer and I almost stumbled over a raised slab edge. “You're surrounded by people who want you out of here. Get that?”
I swallowed hard, clenching my fists. My thoughts were scattered but I quickly tried to collect them, righting my stance and squaring out my body. I was just getting ready to shove him back when a blur of motion intercepted, a force strong enough to send the neighbor flying and landing on his rear.
“I think that's enough, Tim. Go home and fuck your wife and maybe you'll be slightly less of a pain in the ass.” I recognized the voice before I recognized the back of his body as he put himself between me and “Tim.”
It was Rafe.
All of the crazy emotions that had been swirling around my head until now—the confusion, fear, uncertainty and rage—were all sharpened on the edge of adrenaline. And now they were focused on Rafe, with a single one rising above the rest.
“You don't have to defend my honor,” I spat, the words little more than a growl.
Rafe clicked his tongue, not taking his eyes off Tim, who struggled to his feet.
“You're a traitor to your city,” he scoffed at Rafe. “You think you can protect her forever?”
“I think you should go home before you get yourself into a bad situation,” Rafe replied calmly.
I couldn't see his face but whatever look it bore caused Tim to pale. He swore at us before turning and walking away with his tail between his legs. When Rafe finally faced me, the sheer smugness of his expression only pissed me off even more than I already was.
“That wasn't any of your business. I can handle myself,” I snarled.
“You have a very unique way of thanking me for saving you, but don't worry about it. You're welcome,” he replied.
I hissed a breath and dusted non-existent dirt from my clothing.
I couldn't even begin to pick apart what I was feeling.
I'd spent so many years of my life learning to protect and defend myself that it had become second nature to me, to the point where depending on anyone else to get me out of trouble felt decidedly unnatural.
I'd hated having Tim in my face like that. I hated feeling helpless and small and I would've gone down swinging if it meant I stood my ground. But I couldn't tell if that would've been worse than letting Rafe help me.
Why was he messing with my head this way? This needed to end before something happened that could throw my life even further out of whack.
“You know what, this whole thing was kind of fun while it lasted,” I admitted.
“What thing?” he asked innocently.
“Whatever thing you have going on in that brain of yours that seems to get off on watching me squirm,” I clarified. “I enjoyed the banter. Fun, truly. But if this is going to work then we need to start staying out of each other's way until the renovation work is done.”
“And why is that?” He folded his arms.
“Because I don't like you,” I answered simply. “In fact, I'm sure I kind of hate you.”
What I didn't add was that I didn't like how blurry things became when he was around, or how I could never make sense of my thoughts and the easiest one to grab onto was fury. I didn't say that at all.
“You don't like me, huh?” Rafe took half a step toward me. I'd had too many people encroaching in on my personal space and I refused to take a step back this time. Instead I held my ground, unwavering, crossing my own arms over my chest. Waiting.
His eyes locked on mine, reading and interpreting what he saw there. And what he saw there drew his lips into a knowing smirk.
“You hate me,” he repeated slowly, his voice dropping an octave. “But you still wanna fuck me, don't you?”