Repercussions (The Hot Mess Duet Book 1) Page 4

  My mom's red sweaty face peeks out of the door that leads into the kitchen, "Honey, can you get that for me? This roast is taking a little longer than I anticipated. And if that is Mr. Haynes, please welcome him to the neighborhood." She disappears back in the direction she came and my spine turns to ice as realization begins to set in.

  Welcome him to the neighborhood? The freaking extra plate isn't for the new next-door neighbor, is it? A second more persistent knock sounds from the door and pulls me from the horrific thoughts circling my mind. Surely the fates took some pity on me after what occurred yesterday, and that isn't the Gunslinger himself standing on the other side of our front door.

  Hoping I open the door to anyone else, I unlock the deadbolt and swing the wooden door wide. The first thing I notice is a defined t-shirt clad chest straight up in my face. Boundary issues much? My visual scan up the chest sets my heart racing and my breath catches in my throat. The face attached to the toned body is none other than the neighbor who caught me fingering myself. No, bad Annie. That's just what it looked like! Although now that I can see him in the daylight, it is clear that I have some serious spank material if I want to climb up on the fence and have a repeat performance.

  I must be gaping like a fish because amusement flashes in his otherwise steely grey eyes. He is all hard muscles and straight up brooding. Batman could take lessons from this man standing before me and we all know he sets the brood bar freaking high.

  Mr. Haynes eyebrows rise as I try and pull myself together. It isn't like I haven't been around attractive men before, but I don't expect his gaze to cut straight through me - to seem to understand what I am thinking without uttering a single breath or word.

  Thank all that is holy my father chooses that moment to meander down the hall. The man at the door and I are stuck in a staring contest that has my head wrapped up in thoughts of lust, confusion, and sheer mortification. My dad gives me a pointed look before grabbing the door from my ironclad grip and shoving it the rest of the way open, "Mr. Haynes is it? A pleasure to have you join us for dinner. It's the least we could do for last night."

  My eyes laser in on my father's face towering above me, "Excuse me? Last night?" My arms cross my chest, Mr. Hayne's eyes bouncing to my boobs a moment before resting back on my dad's face.

  My traitorous father snorts, "Yeah, you neglected to mention you were found in an, shall we say uncomfortable position last night?"

  If my face burned any brighter, you could roast marshmallows off of it. When did they hear about that? That dirty snitch must have come over today and said something to my parents while I was gone! Did he wait for my car to leave the street and sneak over to rat me out?

  Side-eyeing the man who has yet to be welcomed into the house, I stamp my foot in frustration at his inability to keep his yap shut. Call me a toddler, but I have had enough people assume. Assuming I am a bum because I live with my parents, that I can't do any better than this damn town, or that I drove the only man who could ever love me away by doing what I do best and being fucking difficult as he used to remind me.

  "I was stuck to the freakin' fence that mom told me to climb in the first place!"

  My dad gives me a small smile, one that is meant to convey his humor, but I am not feeling it today. Not only do I have to sit through another uncomfortable set-up, I also have my infuriating neighbor around to witness what is sure to be another mortifying moment in my personal life. Realizing we are still standing around the front door my dad pushes it the rest of the way open and gestures to the foyer, "Excuse her, please come in and join me in the living room for a drink while we wait on Natalie to finish up in the kitchen." Giving me a pointed look to get out of the way as I am still rooted firmly in front of the door, I whirl around and stomp down the hall.

  My mom glances up from the stove as I storm in, rolling her eyes at me. She is not unfamiliar with my moods when it comes to Sunday dinner's and today is no exception. I know I am going to be in fine form tonight if the first guest is any indication. Hip checking the counter next to my mom, I cross my arms across my chest and level her with a cold stare, "Why is the new neighbor here for dinner too?"

  I catch a glint of amusement in my mom's eyes before she turns away from me and stirs the pot of gravy on the stove, "He happened to be climbing into his truck when I got back from my run this morning and we got to talking. He asked me about you and if you did live in the house, and about the power line." I let out a huff, I am so sure she just happened to be there when he left for the day, "Don't worry honey, I corroborated your reason for being on his property. He did, uh mention how he found you last night. While I am sure that is an interesting story, one I sincerely hope you will tell me later tonight, I have to get this dinner ready before your date arrives."

  With that statement, the doorbell rings and the feeling of doom envelopes me in an unwanted hug. Part of me secretly hoped that maybe my mom had canceled on the other man she had arranged when she found a finer candidate. As cold and broody as my neighbor seems, that has to be ten times better than what is sure to be standing on the other side of that door.

  "Charlie, can you please get the door!" My mother hollers out of the kitchen door to my father. I try to busy myself in an effort to cover up the awkwardness I feel over this entire situation, but I know I am not fooling anyone with my performance.

  In the distance, I hear the door swing open and the murmur of greetings. Footsteps sound down the hall, headed in our direction. My heart is beating a murderous rage in my chest, seeming to chant with each beat please don't be a knob.

  The man must be on the shorter side because my dad's tall frame blocks him from view as they enter the kitchen. The moment seems to slow down as he sidesteps my dad to get a better look at me. I am not impressed with the man I am seeing. Luckily, I went into this dinner knowing I wouldn't be dining with my soul mate.

  The wine to water comment from Makayla suddenly makes sense as he clearly resembles Jesus. Short and slightly overweight with dark curly hair that falls past his shoulder, this set-up has to be a joke. Especially since packed under his arm is a half rack of Budweiser.

  Hungry eyes look me up and down and I am more than happy I didn't put on the somewhat cleavage-baring dress my mom had laid out on my bed. There are some men who succeed in turning you on when their gaze rakes your body, but this man's seems to leave a dirty sensation behind. My dad shoots me a look of pity, not a fan of the men my mom has over to dine with me, and leaves the kitchen to rejoin our other guest.

  Just freaking great. Dinner with Jesus and Gunslinger and my parents. Where's the wine? Giving my date a small smile I hold out my hand for introductions, "Hello there, I'm Charlie and Natalie's daughter, Annie."

  His grip on my hand makes me feel like I am his possession, something I became familiar with whenever Travis held me in his arms, "You are even hotter in person than your mother described." He looks me up and down again, eyes seeming to stray on my chest beneath my t-shirt a little longer than is necessary, "I'm Odin."

  Seemingly creeped out by this man, I pull my hand from his grip and not so subtly wipe it on my jeans, "Well thanks for the compliment, Odin. Would you like to join the gentleman in the living room for some drinks while I help my mom finish up with dinner?"

  The traitor turns from the stove, where she just pulled out the roast moments ago, "Oh Annie I have everything under control in here. Why don't you go and keep the men in the living room company? I grabbed a bottle of that Riesling that you enjoy." She bought Riesling? She's trying to butter me up. No way no how some wine is going to make up for the fact that two of the most infuriating people on the planet are both in our residence.

  I let loose a sigh and gesture toward the hallway, "After you."

  Odin gives me another one of what seems to be his trademark lecherous grins and murmurs, "Oh I insist, after you."

  Rolling my eyes and willing my hips not to shake too much while his eyes are seared onto my ass, I lead the way out to where M
r. Haynes and my father are in deep conversation. Apparently about lawn mowers if the snippets I walk in on are any indication. My father and the neighbor took the two armchairs in the room and all that is left is the loveseat.

  Lovely. Why my mom never put a larger couch in this room, I will never know.

  Gripping the back of my father's chair rather than sitting next to the man who gives me the heebie-jeebies, I study the three men in the room for a moment. I can only see the back of my fathers head but he is talking animatedly, gesturing wildly with his hands while he talks about his prized possession. What is so great about a friggen lawn mower is beyond me.

  Men. They're good for cutting grass and moth wrangling. Not much else.

  Directly across from my father is the new neighbor, Gunslinger. I study him while he converses with my father. His dark hair is cut closer on the sides, but wild and untamed on top. My fingers curl around the chair as I imagine running them through it, the inky roots contrasting against my ivory skin tone.

  Where the heck did that image come from? Sure I fantasize occasionally about one of the Holy Trinity of Chris's, as I like to call them. You know the ones. Pratt, Hemsworth, and Evans are in particular rotation in my mind. But this man before me? Yeah, he is fine in a very real, and slightly more attainable way. Or at least it would seem that way, but everything about his body posture screams gets me out of here and just leave me alone.

  While he seemingly takes an interest in what my father is saying, you can tell he is here for dinner to go through the motions. I know better than anyone how pushy my mother can be when she wants something, and he now seems to be part of the Can't Say No to Natalie Club. It's constantly expanding with new candidates, and my father and I head up the board. My mom is a tornado in our lives and we just do whatever is the easiest and quickest way to get her to blow on her way and find a new target.

  Mr. Haynes sits stoic but guarded, only offering words here and there while Odin jumps straight into the conversation and offers more to it than my neighbor seems to be willing. I study Odin next, watching him as he finishes off the first beer he cracked open upon sitting down, and fishes out his second from the box on the couch next to him. He has a beer belly protruding over the waistband of his pants, and by the way he is already putting a dent into his half rack, I'm not at all surprised.

  Three men. All very different in many ways, but still able to hold a conversation and be polite. If this were women, we would be silently judging each other over the rim of our wine glasses and be thinking catty thoughts. Part of me wishes I was in a room of diabolical women instead of my living room at this very moment though.

  Lost in my own thoughts, I hadn't realized the conversation stopped until I feel several gazes on me. Clearly, someone spoke to me while I momentarily checked out. Shaking my head clear, I murmur an apology, "I'm sorry, I missed something."

  Odin's eyes narrow in annoyance, "I asked you what you did for a living."

  Giving him a small smile I grind out, "I work at the library downtown."

  My father reaches behind him and pats one of my hands gripped on the back of his chair, "She is just being modest. She runs the library downtown."

  I roll my eyes at the back of his head and pat the growing bald spot he's sporting, "Not being modest. We have a staff of four and our library is the smallest in the district."

  I sneak a glance at the man across from me, silent through our exchange. He is watching me with an intensity I haven't seen or felt from anyone before. When we make eye contact he looks away as if caught staring, but considering I am in his line of vision it isn't like he is guilty of anything.

  My mom chooses then to pop into the living room, "Dinner is ready! Annie, can you help me with these dishes please?" Thanking the heavens above for a reason to leave this room, even for a moment, I scurry off to the kitchen.

  Grabbing the steaming bowls of mashed potatoes and vegetable medley, I follow my mom back out to the dining room. The menfolk are already gathered around the table. Mr. Haynes and my father are standing behind their chairs, ever the gentlemen waiting on my mother and me to sit. Odin is already seated at the table, downing what is most likely his third or fourth beer at this point, and eyeing the meat in my mom's hands.

  Setting the dishes on the table, my mom motions for my father to cut into the roast. I glance around the table and notice my mom switched up the seating arrangements since we have one person more than usual. Usually, I have to sit across the table from whatever dinner guest she has over, but today she sat him next to me and our neighbor directly across from me.

  I can't help but outwardly cringe. The table isn't large, my family is small and we never had a need for anything bigger, so I know I will be in close proximity to Jesus. Er, Odin. I am used to a variety of men every week, some pull out my chair and others shy away from even talking to me directly. Odin seems to fall into the caveman category. He is greedily scooping up the food before most of us have a chance to sit down, and I move his beer away from his elbow while he frantically scoops, afraid it will be a casualty to his ravaging.

  Internally sighing, I plunk myself down next to my date and wait for Odin to pass the dishes to me. Except he doesn't, choosing to start shoveling food into his mouth. I sneak a glance at the man across from me who seems appalled at this behavior as well. I am sincerely glad I'm not the only one since my mom appears unfazed and is piling her own plate with dinner.

  Once the dishes finally make their rounds around the table, the rest of us begin our meal. Odin is already halfway through his when I feel a hand graze my leg before grabbing it firmly, causing me to jump. Throwing his hand off me and scooting as far away as I can get without sitting on top of my dad, I chance another look at the man across from me. His expression seems torn between wanting to help me and amusement at what I am dealing with. I don't know if I am more infuriated that he isn't speaking up for my honor or silently laughing at my current predicament.

  My mom's voice cuts through that thought when she turns to Odin and asks him, "So Odin, we didn't really get a chance to talk before when I ran into you. What is it that you do?"

  He grunts and responds with a mouth full of roast, "I don't work, I stay home with the kids while my wife works at the hospital." He seems oblivious to the fact that everyone at the table froze at his statement. This is a surefire way to get him the fuck out of this house and this night over with I suppose.

  Mr. Hayne's fork clatters to his plate, a storm brewing in his eyes and his expression stony. He growls out, "Aren't you Annie's date for the evening?"

  Odin gives him a lewd smile, "Yeah, my wife works a lot. She's a nurse at the hospital and has long shifts. A man has needs, but I am sure I don't have to explain that to you. You look like a man that has plenty of women flocking to satisfy his needs."

  This conversation is bordering on some serious PTSD for me. The way Odin ogles me, the way his touch moments ago gave me creeped out vibes, and even his callous attitude toward the fact that he has a family reminds me of Travis.

  I find myself slipping into a dreadful memory before I can stop it

  Travis shoved me on the bed, his hungry kisses trailing down my jaw and neck. I told him I wasn't in the right state of mind for this right now, but he came home from work in a mood. He wasn't taking no for an answer and he didn't care that I didn't want to be touched. I spent the day writing a scene that had me raw and vulnerable, and while I wished for a healing touch, Travis never seemed to soothe me.

  Unbuttoning my pants and sliding them down my hips, I grab his hands and whisper to him, "Travis, I told you I can't do this right now."

  His cold eyes met mine, I knew I was going to upset him by saying no but I didn't expect the expression of hatred that seemed to glue me to the bed, "Are you fucking serious Annie? I have been working my ass off all day thinking of this moment, and all you have been doing today is sitting in that chair writing your sex scenes anyways. Or do you prefer to get off to your fictional characters more th
an your own boyfriend? I have needs you know!" He slowly stands up and hits me with a look as I try to wiggle myself back into my jeans, "You're fucking lucky I put up with you and your moods." And with that, he turns and stalks out of the room.

  Blinking back the tears that come from the intrusive memory, I glance at the man sitting to my right. He doesn't seem to be fazed by the fact that I have gone rigid next to him with his declaration and my sudden thrust into the past. I could almost feel the eyes of the man across from me searing into my very soul though. Chancing a look at him, I see the storm in his expression. If I didn't know any better, I would say that he is waging a war between wanting to get up and comfort me or strangling the loser I am stuck beside.

  It is almost like he can see the pain I was reliving, the abuse that I became accustomed to and the consequences for opening myself up to someone who could hurt me in such a way. I know nothing about this man, nor him about me, and yet he is looking at me like he knows everything I am feeling. I thought I did well in hiding my emotions, but clearly, I need to do a better job.

  The grip on Gunslinger's fork tightens as he mulls over Odin's words. He leans over his plate and levels the man across from him with a scathing look, "So you're telling me you knowingly accepted a date with someone while you have a wife working her ass off to support you and your kids." He says as more of a statement than a question.

  Odin, who is several beers into his half rack at this point, is beginning to slur his words and doesn't even seem to notice that the atmosphere has changed from friendly to frigid in a matter of moments, "Well yeah, a mom approaches me to wine and dine her daughter and get a free meal out of it, I am not gonna turn her down. My wife knows I'm not sitting at home pining for her." Turning to me and waggling his eyebrows, who is this man, "Besides, haven't you heard the rumors about Odin's hammer?"