Chapter Six
Clint
Sweat runs down my spine as I raise the hammer up and swing it down into the nail head against the last sheetrock panel, the crack echoing in the half-finished room. My shoulders are burning, but I keep going. I’d much rather feel the physical pain than whatever emotions keep trying to creep in.
I’ve been working all night and barely slept since Bella left.
How could I when I know she wanted to stay?
How could I rest when the two of us should’ve been upstairs? When she should’ve been grinding against my lap with that sopping, little, virgin pussy calling me Daddy?
Jesus Christ.
The sun lifts up over the mountain range as I grab my mug from the counter and step out onto the front porch, boots scuffing against the old wood as the screen door slams behind me. The air is cool and clean, carrying the unmistakable scent of pine that wakes me up better than coffee ever could.
It’s a quiet morning, the lake a perfect sheet of glass that catches the early light. Nothing but a bird in sight calling from the shoreline ahead.
I lean forward on the porch rail, feeling the rough grain under my palms. I’m fucking exhausted, but there’s still so much to do.
I need to mud this drywall, paint, fix the leak in the kitchen sink, complete the decks, get the upstairs bathroom finished, and I’m sure there’s a million more tasks I’m not thinking of right now.
“What the hell, man? No breaks allowed!” Rhett stomps up onto the porch, the steps creaking like they’re as tired as I am.
“I know! I’m a slacker!” I grin and shake the man’s hand before he leans in for a hug.
We’ve known each other for most of our lives, working through everything together.
The military, failed relationships, the business, you name it, we’ve been there for one another the whole time.
“You’re here early. I thought you had a job out at Mrs. Robinson’s place. ”
“She moved the appointment to noon. Figured I’d stop by here first, see how much progress you’ve made. Gotta get these cabins finished before that eye of yours gives out.”
The one thing I hate more than thinking about this fucking eye, is fucking talking about it. This eye’s been a shadow hanging over everything I do for the last ten years.
I don’t want pity. I just want to work and finish what I started before the world decides I can’t.
“How’s it feeling?” he continues, turning his hat back as he steps into the house to look around.
“Good,” I lie, changing the subject. “What about you? Still at odds with that Nathan guy?”
“You could say that.” Rhett nods slowly as he wanders through the lake house, checking out all my work.
“He’s a man-child, and he needs an education.
There are days when I consider giving him one.
Today, the urge is particularly strong.” He runs his hand across the countertop joint, examining my work.
“I’m going down to the bar tonight to blow off some steam.
The guys should be there too. You feel like coming out? ”
I should say yes. The thing that happened with Bella was an anomaly.
A onetime event. A fleeting moment that probably shouldn’t have happened to begin with.
A beer with the guys would do me good. I can’t sit around thinking about the text she never replied to for the rest of the day.
I can’t keep running upstairs to jerk off to the memory of her scent or the ghost of her eager, restless sounds.
“I’ll get back to you on that.”
“Oh yeah?” Rhett grins and tugs at his beard. “You got big plans tonight? You meet some woman you’re keeping secret from everyone?”
I drag in a deep breath and shake my head. “Nah.”
“Fuck,” he groans. “There’s a woman. Who the hell is she?”
“No one.”
“Wow.” He shakes his head. “Must be serious or seriously fucked up if you won’t tell your best buddy.”
“There’s no woman,” I lie for the second time today. “Just got a lot of work to do.”
“Bullshit! I know that face! You’ve got it bad! Who is she?”
I roll my eyes and wet some mud for the sheetrock with the hose on the front porch. “Appreciate you, man, but I’ve got nothing to say.”
“Okay, so you’re fucking some girl you shouldn’t be, aren’t you?” Rhett laughs as he brushes something off his hand. “You’re a fucking mess, dude. Tell me what’s going on.”
“It’s not a thing,” I say, flicking on the drill to mix the mud before I carry it inside.
“Okay… keeping your secrets from your best buddy? Not cool, man.” He throws up his hands as though he’s frustrated, but we both know the truth. He’s nosier than an old woman.
I can see his damn eyebrow twitching from here, he’s so invested. He really needs something better to do with his time.
“If you feel like talking, why don’t you tell me about this thing with Nathan and the wedding you’re stressing out about?”
He laughs under his breath and turns toward the door, shaking his head slowly.
“The guy is an ass, and he doesn’t deserve the girl he’s marrying.
They were never right for each other, and it frustrates me so fucking much.
” Rhett waves without looking back. “Let me know what you decide for tonight. The guys and I will be at the bar.”
“You got it,” I groan, knowing full well that would shut him up. “Talk to you later.”
He leaves, though I barely notice it. I’m too focused on the mud, watching the scraper drag down the wall.
This is something I can fix. I show up, I do the work, the job gets done.
The whole thing makes a hell of a lot more sense than the urges boiling inside of me for Bella.
Urges or not, I need to get fucking control of myself.
*****
Main Street is busier than usual tonight. Trucks are stacked along both sides of the road, some half-parked in the ditch, others idling with dogs hanging out the windows. Odds are it’s because there are live bands playing at both the bars tonight.
I have no idea where my buddies have landed, but I figure I’ll look for them first at Mullet’s place.
It’s an old redneck bar where the floorboards creak, the beer’s cold, and the regulars usually end up.
If they aren’t here, I’ll check the distillery.
It’s a newer place, but they’ve got an old moonshine kind of vibe that draws people in.
Music echoes out into the street as I pass by folks wearing late-season flannel and into the brick facade bar that has a scent all its own. It’s a cross between leather and hot wings, with a side note of hops. It’s unmistakable, and as I lean against the polished wood counter, I feel at home.
Considering I’ve been leaning against this very bar for the better part of my life, I should feel at home. My buddies and I have made more memories here than anywhere else in town. When we’d go on leave, this bar was always the first stop we’d make.
Those days were the best. We’d pile back to the mountain like heroes. The whole town would throw a massive party, and we couldn’t pass a street corner without a nod of thanks or an offer for a homecooked meal. The accolades were nice, but the purpose meant more.
I always knew when we came home from a tour, we’d be out in the field again soon.
While on a mission, I knew what I was doing every time we went out.
I felt needed, purposeful, essential to the mission.
If it weren’t for this damn eye thing, I’d have been out there longer, at least that’s what I thought until yesterday when I saw Bella.
Now, I’m thinking of chapters to my story that were never part of the plan before. Kids, a steady home, and big, family Christmases with an eight-foot pine in the front window, twinkling with colored lights.
You’ve lost it, man. That’s never going to happen.
I need this beer fast or I might start believing some of this shit!
The bartender recognizes my face, gives me a nod of recognition, and slides me a beer like we’ve done this a thousand times. Maybe we have. I’ve forgotten more faces than I remember these days.
Years ago, Mullet the bartender was always the one passing out the drinks.
Life was more simple then, easy to predict.
There was a comfort in knowing who you were going to talk to every time you came in.
Now that he’s retired and only comes back a handful of nights a month, it could be just about anyone behind this bar, and I don’t have the patience to learn the whole staff’s names and personalities.
Hand me my beer and tell me to enjoy the rest of my night. That’s all the interaction we need.
I wrap my hand around the cold bottle and head for the back corner where the lights are lower and the room is quieter so I can scan the room for my buddies. They’re probably in a corner of their own, sucking down hot wings and beer like someone’s going to take them away.
I’m halfway through my sweep of the area, when I see her.
A curvy blonde in a pink dress that looks painted on. She’s talking to some guy who thinks leaning in close counts as charm. She’s even smiling, though I’d gather it’s the polite type given I know what it looks like when she’s actually smiling.
Who the fuck is this guy and why is she with him?
My pulse kicks into overdrive, and the noise, the bodies, the clatter of bottles… it all blurs to static as I focus in on my little girl. The sweet, little, virgin angel I had pinned to the ground less than twenty-four hours ago.
Why would Bella be here, in this filthy bar, talking to some little asshole who doesn’t look like he could scratch a dog right, let alone a woman? She tilts her head, hair spilling down over her shoulder as the asshole leans in, a fucking grin never leaving his face.
A hot, sharp pain flares in my chest, and suddenly I don’t give a fuck about my buddies, or decorum, or the fact that this is a small town with onlookers everywhere. I’m not thinking about anything other than the way she shouldn’t be talking to that man.
That boy.
That piece of shit.
I drag in a slow breath, attempting to meter my thoughts, but it doesn’t help. I’m staring down the barrel of a scope. A fucking flood could rage through the bar doors and I wouldn’t notice.
She smiles at whatever stupid thing he says, and my body reacts without hesitation.
One foot in front of the other, I move in, stalking through the crowd until I’m face to face with the only girl I’ve ever really wanted. I may have thought I wanted others, but I realize now, I was wrong. My body has never reacted like this before her.
Not once.
It’s like I’m finally breaking free of chains I never knew were on me. Like some animalistic part of my DNA has woken with an insatiable urge to claim this one woman and no one else will do.
Eyes wide, she stares up at me, a flicker of softness around her mouth. Her chin lowers, her lashes raise, and I’m gone.
I lift her up, haul her over my shoulder, and carry her to the back office.
The room is spinning, there’s a pressure in my chest, and my heart rate is off the charts.
This can’t wait a second longer.
I’m claiming my little girl, and I don’t give a fuck what anyone else has to say about it.