Page 8 of Tormented Bastard
She moved closer to the open window. The breeze caught at that moment and that vanilla, amber scent tickled my senses. “Thank you.” When I started the engine, her eyes widened. “Wait, where’s your house?”
I smirked. “You have a way of finding out things, Eden. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. I gotta go. Can you move that monstrosity of a vehicle from behind me?”
She rolled her eyes and made a noise that resembled a growl but walked back to her SUV. Within a few moments, she was out of the way and pulling away from the house. The large black vehicle reminded me of ones that would carry government officials.
I chuckled. Yeah, she wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb around here at all.
I blew out a breath and dropped the truck into gear, heading to the next property to prep. As I drove along the beachfront road, a glance around looked like a storm would be the last thing to worry about with the sunshine and high white clouds. But the winds had picked up and the sea was beginning to get choppier. Far out on the horizon, purple clouds were beginning to show themselves. The air held a subtle smell of rain. It wouldn’t be long now.
A couple of hours later, all of my properties were ready for whatever the incoming storm had to offer. A glance at the dashboard clock in my truck said Eden would be at my house in a little over an hour. Knowing her, she’d be early, and I still had my own house to prep, so I pointed the truck toward the end of the island.
Between Eden and the near constant ache in my shoulder after overworking it, the past was coming in like a guest who’d overstayed their welcome. After everything that had happened four years ago, the paparazzi had been relentless. I’d eventually found a piece of land at the very tip of Sandy Seas Island and built my fortress. It was surrounded by oak and palm trees on one side, the Gulf of Mexico on the south side and the Apalachicola Bay on the north side. It wasn’t like they couldn’t find me here, but I didn’t make it easy for them with the high white block walls and wrought iron security gate, not to mention the best hidden camera and security system money could buy on my property.
I wasn’t a celebrity athlete anymore, and fortunately, most of the vultures had lost interest, but occasionally a stray one would show up looking for a morsel to dig up the scandal again.
The gates closed smoothly behind the truck, and the crunch of the shell and gravel driveway broke the silence under my tires. The modern styled house was larger than I’d ever need as a single guy, but it also meant I didn’t run into my housekeeper, Linda, unless I just wanted to or she came looking for me.
I sighed in relief when I let myself inside, the cool air surrounding me and chilling my overheated skin. I needed a break after working out in the heat all morning. It was hot as hell with the humidity at a million percent. I toed my boots off at the door and wandered toward the open kitchen. I needed sustenance in the form of a cold beer.
My stomach growled at the lack of contents in my big-ass fridge. Linda usually kept the fridge stocked, but she’d been gone for two weeks to visit her grandkids in North Carolina. And with the impending storm, I told her to wait until it passed before she headed back. But there was still some beer left, which was just what I needed. I plopped down on the couch and cracked open the beer, taking a deep drink. I sighed at the bite of the cold carbonation on my throat. Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back on the cushion. With each sip of my beer, my body relaxed little by little. But my mind was a jumble of images, the past and present mixing together, most of them with Eden Mitchell front and center.
The first day we met. The trip we took here years ago when we were broke but wanted to do something for Spring Break. All of the times my body sank into hers and the little sighs and moans she made when I moved inside her. Leaving her for the big leagues and promising I’d be back. A promise I kept but not in the way we’d planned. After that it all went black. Except for the screams and the smell of burning rubber among other things. The ass over teakettle motion that made me feel like I was flying through the air…
“Hey, man. Wake up.”
I swung at the motion, at the feel of being held down and flying at the same time.
“Hollywood, mate. What the fuck? Wake up!”
My eyes sprang open to find Chance standing in front of me holding my arms down. Son of a bitch, the fucker was strong.
I blinked, trying to clear the cobwebs and the bad memories out of my mind. I swallowed hard against the desert that had recently set up location in my throat. “Uh, sorry.”
I attempted to move out of his grip on my shoulders, but he didn’t budge. He lifted a brow. “You good?”
“I’m good.”
He released me and picked up one of the beers he’d set on the coffee table. “I see you already started.” He gestured toward the bottle between my thighs with his own.
I glanced down and then lifted it to my lips to drink away the bitterness on my tongue.
“What’s going on, Hollywood?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, it’s no secret you’re the town grump. But I’ve never seen you be hostile to anyone like I saw today. And I find you in here talking in your sleep.”
“I have my reasons.” I tipped the bottle back only to find it empty. I turned my head to him. “You used the code again, didn’t you?”
Chance shrugged a shoulder. “You didn’t answer the buzzer,” he said as if that explained everything.
“Great. Now I have to change it.”
“Whatever. Now, let’s talk about the woman.” He pulled a Fun Dip pouch out of his back pocket.
I wrinkled my nose. “How can you eat that shit, man? It’s nothing but colored sugar with a molded sugar stick.”
“I know. Isn’t it amazing?” He grinned and ripped the pouch open. He gestured with the stick for me to start talking. “Go on. Tell me your reasons.”
