Page 48 of Cocky Prince
“The one and only. And he’s connected.”
Paul and William are shifty jackasses, but they aren’t Drake Peterson. Although, considering the drugs and prostitutes Paul had delivered to my home and the way he’s been throwing threats around, maybe it’s time I took this seriously. “You think I can get Jeb’s number? Just in case.”
Lewis gives me the number for Gen’s dad, and we sign off. I set the phone on the edge of the bed, and lean forward with my arms on my knees. Why wouldn’t Blue use Sallee Construction for Bliss? It’s strange, but I’m not jumping to conclusions just yet.
Of course Hayden wouldn’t be able to walk away from putting bad guys behind bars. Because of what? A hunch? I shake my head. I don’t even want to consider how I’m going to keep her away from Paul and William, and I guess Blackwell, since he’s in charge, but I need to. I’m not ready to convict Blue Casino—not when the place is my livelihood—but I don’t like the way Paul has put the heat on me and threatened to come after me if I say anything about Bliss. I’ve got a bad feeling about it, and I don’t want Hayden anywhere near that shit.
I check my work emails one last time. Paul sent a message about the Bliss rollout. We have enough bodyguards now, and he’s got a backup plan for the dancers, so I can stop hiring. Everything is on schedule for the weekend of the auction and burlesque show.
I shut down my laptop and sweep a hand through my hair, attempting to tame it. I showered hours ago when I started working from home, but combing and shaving aren’t on the weekend agenda. It’s Sunday, and I’ve only managed a few hours of sleep these last few nights. I’m running on fumes; bad hair is par for the course.
After I took care of errands for Hayden’s closet yesterday afternoon, I went in to work and stayed until early morning, filling out paperwork the way I have the last couple of nights. There’s no logical reason why I should pay off my debt to Hayden this weekend on top of everything else. It’s shitty timing, and I’m sure Hayden would agree to wait a week or two. But I don’t want to wait. Spending time with her is the most fun I’ve had in a long time. I haven’t decided if it’s because I’m working on something outside of Blue, which clears my head, or if it’s her. Pretty sure I don’t want the answer to that. Not when I can’t even refute Lewis’s remark about her being my favorite girl.
I grab my keys, and head out to the Chevy I bought from the Club Tahoe groundskeeper ten years ago. My brothers and I use it to haul things around town. The beast is an eyesore, but it comes in handy and I can’t bring myself to replace it.
What seems like seconds later, I pull up to Hayden’s place and cut the engine. The hour may indicate early afternoon, but my ass is dragging. I stretch my neck and climb out, taking a deep breath of pine-scented air. The fresh air clears a few of the cobwebs, and I reach inside the cab for the extra items I brought today.
Hayden’s house is small, but every freaking inch of it is charming, from the Z-framed front door and window boxes, to her girly purple bedroom. It’s nothing like the home I grew up in, or even the house I’m renting now. Yet it’s ten times more comfortable than anyplace I’ve lived.
I rap twice on the door. After a moment—no crashing sounds this time—Hayden answers. She’s in blue jeans and a T-shirt that hugs her curves, her hair in another ponytail.
My heart does an extra beat. There’s something about seeing Hayden outside of work that gets my blood pumping. She gets it pumping at work too, but outside of Blue, the restraints are off. I love seeing this casual side of her.
A sandy blond wisp dangles over her cheek from the tawny bangs she’s swept off to the side. “More stuff?” She eyes the buckets and other equipment I’m carrying.
“And more where this came from.” I set the items on the porch and trudge back to the truck, where I grab a large sheet of drywall. Propping it against my shoulder and head, I carry it into the house and lean it against the unused portion of the hallway. “This okay?”
Hayden nods, eyeing the sheet warily.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I’m only using a portion of this. Drywall comes in one size from the home improvement store. I had to buy the whole thing.”
Fortunately, Hayden’s hallway doesn’t have the wood paneling her bedroom and living room do. I only need drywall to close it off, some tape, and matching Spackle and paint.
“I’m so paying you back for the supplies, and for your work if you’ll let me,” she says.
I wave her off. Like I need her money. Yeah, I lost the bet, but I’m doing this because I want to, plain and simple.
Hayden hands me a Pacifico, which I gladly accept, and sits cross-legged on the floor, watching me while I settle in to patch up the giant hole that was the hall closet. Stealthily, I glance over. She never fails to grab my eye at work, but without makeup and her hair down—or, rather, up—I can hardly keep my eyes off her. She looks like the girl she was—the one I couldn’t stop tracking during high school.
I kept my distance from Hayden at work this last week because I was busy with interviews, but that’s not the only reason. I’d been a hairsbreadth away from kissing her after I caught her snooping in the facility manager’s office. I don’t know what came over me. I blame it on exhaustion. And abstinence. And Hayden. She rubs me in a way that unleashes my most basic instincts—those of the covet and copulate variety. But other instincts as well—to protect and care for her—and where the hell did those come from?
I like things simple. Tame. And my emotions where Hayden is concerned aren’t the least bit tame.
Blackwell is cutting corners to get Bliss up and running. He doesn’t need to contract out employees and bypass his own human resources department, but he is, and I haven’t figured out why. My long-hibernating protective instincts have me blocking Hayden from Bliss and those involved in it, but I’m not so altruistic. I need this venture just as much as Blackwell does. But I will be cautious from here on out. I’ll reach out to Jeb Kendrick.
“You never finished telling me why your parents couldn’t sell this place,” I say, to get my mind off feelings for her I don’t want to consider. And how cute she looks with her chin propped on her hand.
Her face scrunches up. “Didn’t I?”
I take a moment to measure out the drywall and cut out the pieces, nailing them in place. “You said no one would buy the house,” I continue. “You thought it was because of the rumor.”
“It was.” She leans back and stretches out her shapely legs. “People weren’t interested in paying money to the family of the girl who seduced their favorite teacher and drove him out of town.”
Knee to the floor, seam tape in my palm, my hands go still. It’s just so damn infuriating how judgmental and cruel people can be. “I didn’t realize things spread that far into the community. You sure the house didn’t sell because of the economy?”
She shakes her head, the soft swell of her cheek turned down as she carefully peels the label from her beer bottle. “The schools were the root of the problem, but once the rumor spread, it spread everywhere.”
I’d heard the rumor—everyone did—but I’ve never heard Hayden’s side. “What happened?”
