Christmas from Hell

Page 7

 
Chapter 3
 
Happy fucking Thanksgiving to him, he thought as he tilted his head back and stared up at the cloudy black sky, wondering what the fuck he did to deserve this.
 
Seriously, he couldn’t figure it out. He wasn’t a bad person, he paid his taxes on time, voted, was always willing to help out someone who needed his help and so far, he was the only Bradford in the history of their family not to get personally banned from a restaurant. He didn’t count Lucifer’s restaurant, Fire & Brimstone simply because his brother was an asshole, but still…
 
What had he done to deserve having this annoying pain in the ass in his life?
 
Don’t get him wrong. He wasn’t perfect. He’d fucked up in his life, broken a few hearts, had a few selfish moments in his life, but he could honestly say that he’d never done anything to deserve having this nightmare of a woman living next-door to him.
 
The sad thing about it was that she wasn’t even making his life a living hell on purpose. Not once in the last year, and God, had he really survived a year living next to the little disaster? had he ever felt that any of the really fucked up things that happened to him because of her had been done on purpose. It would probably make his life so much easier if she was fucking him over because she was a bitch, but sadly she was just pathetic.
 
There were a few times that he’d seriously considered screaming at her as he throttled her neck for whatever bullshit she’d inflicted upon him, but one look at her mortified expression was usually enough to help him keep his mouth shut, turn around and walk away before he did something that would land his ass in the slammer. Not that he would regret it, because heaven fucking knew that he wouldn’t, not after the bullshit that she’d put him through over the last twelve months, but he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he told her what he really thought of her.
 
She was a royal pain in the ass and he couldn’t fucking stand her.
 
Every time he saw her, he would turn around and walk the other way, more like run, but sometimes even that wasn’t enough to save him from the bullshit that she put him through. He still couldn’t understand how such a tiny woman could cause so much damage. He’d lost track of the injuries that she’d inflicted upon him over the past year, but some of them like the fire, the dumpster incident, the skunk, when she hit him with her car, and the time that the little brat thought it would be a good idea to surprise her grandfather by repainting the house for him and Duncan had somehow ended up covered in five gallons of grey paint, a nail through his foot and one of his eyebrows burnt off simply because he’d made the mistake of walking too close to the property line, those memories would stay with him forever.
 
And now after the incredibly fucked up day that had landed him in the emergency room with a concussion, ten stitches, a suspension and a migraine from the painkillers he now had to deal with whatever bullshit she’d gotten herself into once again. He didn’t bother asking her what happened or why she hadn’t climbed out from beneath his cousin’s truck yet simply because he didn’t give a flying fuck. He also didn’t want to hear how it happened, because honestly, he felt that ignorance was probably the safest bet when it came to Necie Dixon.
 
He ignored the way that his stomach rolled, kneeled down, put his arms around her small frame and-
 
“Ouch! Ouch! Oh, my God, ouch!” the small woman that had too much power to ruin his day screamed, instantly making him go still even as he shook his head in disgust, because really, he should have known that she’d make something that should have been simple into a huge fucking ordeal.
 
“What’s going on?” his father asked, coming up behind him.
 
Before he could answer, the woman that was for some reason clinging to the back tire, muttered, “C-cart,” reminding him of the reason that he could now add limping to his list of bullshit offenses for the day.
 
“Oh,” his father said, not really sounding all that concerned when he should be fucking livid on his behalf, “that large silver cart that slammed into Duncan’s leg?”
 
There was a slight pause before she whispered, “Yes,” sounding embarrassed, which was probably understandable considering who he was dealing with here.
 
“I’ll grab it for you,” his father offered with a shrug and a yawn, sounding bored while Duncan was stuck there, kneeling on the ice covered pavement with the annoying woman that refused to give him a fucking break in his arms.
 
“T-that would be great. Thank you,” she said softly before screaming another one of those, “Ouchies,” that had him muttering a curse, because it was clear that she wasn’t going to allow his night to end until she’d completely destroyed the very last ounce of what was left of his sanity. “It’s actually the order that I made for Danny and Jodi. So, if you could bring it over there that would be-”
 
“What order?” his father asked, suddenly sounding very alert for a man who’d been on his feet since four this morning, having spent the last five hours working on him and helping out in the emergency room that had been grossly understaffed.
 
“Desserts mostly,” Necie said with a wince as she tried to discretely push him away with one arm while she used the other to hold onto the tire.
 
“Let go,” Duncan said firmly, but she simply squeezed her eyes shut tightly and stubbornly shook her head as she continued to hold onto that damn tire.
 
“Not going to happen,” she said with that same stubborn shake of her head.
 
Sighing heavily, because he really didn’t need to deal with this tonight, he moved to release her and ask his father to deal with this bullshit so that he could go to his room and crash for the night, but his father wasn’t standing by his side any longer. No, that traitorous bastard was at the end of the driveway trying to put Uncle Jared in a headlock while Jason kicked out Trevor’s knee, jumped over the large bastard only to get knocked on his ass by Danny and Darrin as they all raced to get to that service cart first. Shaking his head in disgust at himself, because he couldn’t really blame them since Necie Dixon was probably the best baker that had ever mastered a stove, he focused his attention back on getting her safely inside.