My Bad
Page 11
It didn’t matter how full you were, whether you were on a low-carb diet, or where you were about to go. Almost nobody could pass up a just-made donut that was still hot.
I sure as hell couldn’t.
And when my favorite donut shop had that stupid ‘hot donuts’ sign in the shop window, I’d never been able to help myself. I’d go in and get one, whether I needed one or not.
It was just the way life was for me.
This man, with his sexy beard and his all-too-knowing eyes, was my glazed donut. Something that I couldn’t resist…and if I were being honest, something that I wanted to taste and devour.
“All those thoughts,” Hoax murmured, pulling me close once again. “Grab a towel, honey. Help me dry my truck off.”
Then he let me go, and I immediately missed the heat down the back of my pants.
I would not complain, or let him know that he was getting to me.
Instead, I did what he asked of me and went to the towel that was sitting on the bike that was parked nearest the front door.
I’d just reached it when I heard a car roll to a stop at the end of Hoax’s driveway.
Picking up the three towels, I tossed one to Bayou who still hadn’t said a word to me and tossed the other at Hoax who’d been waiting for me. Then I got to work on the drying of the large truck that I could only reach the bottom half of and thought about what I was doing.
Or, at least, I tried to.
There was a voice that interrupted my thoughts, and I felt my body jolt.
I knew that voice.
That same voice had called me a bitch eight years ago, and I still remembered the high-pitch whine of it.
And yep, the urge to throat punch the woman was still there.
“What are you doing?” Brielle asked, sounding miffed. “I thought I was borrowing the truck. Why isn’t it ready?”
She hadn’t seen me yet, so I chose to stay where I was, doing what I was doing, despite my small part that I could reach being more than adequately dry.
“Washing the truck,” Hoax said. “Because you decided to park it under a tree that you knew damn well the birds congregated in. It’ll be ready in about five minutes, just gotta finish drying it first.”
The woman huffed. “It was either I park it there, or walk an extra block.”
I rolled my eyes heavenward and moved slightly, dropping down to my haunches so that I could reach the bottom half of the door.
“Oh, God. The thought of you having to walk an extra block really hurts my heart,” Hoax drawled, sounding so smart-assy that I wanted to laugh.
“You don’t understand,” Brielle sniped. “You’re not a woman. You have no clue.”
“Then enlighten us,” Bayou said. “Because I don’t like cleaning bird shit off of trucks. I also told him if it came back damaged in any way, I’d be sure to help fix it. But seriously, Brielle. This is ridiculous. You can’t borrow people’s belongings and then not return them how they were given to you. It doesn’t work that way.”
I agreed wholeheartedly again, not that I would admit that aloud.
I already didn’t like this woman. I didn’t need any more ammunition.
“Whatever,” she snarled. “It wasn’t in any worse condition than when I got it. The windshield was disgusting.”
“The windshield was disgusting because the goddamn bugs here are horrible. But, since we’re on the subject of your selfishness, let’s discuss why you left a goddamn box of sushi in it all night and now it smells like fish. Or how about the fact that you somehow managed to use all of my fuel when you were only ‘driving it to work to pick up a few large boxes,’” Hoax said, sounding agitated.
I clenched my teeth, and in my annoyance, I stood up and inadvertently revealed myself to the woman.
She saw me, her eyes narrowed, and then recognition dawned.
“What the fuck is she doing here?” Brielle snarled.
Obviously, she didn’t forget me any more than I forgot her.
Good.
I didn’t want her to forget the woman that almost knocked her ass out.
If her brother hadn’t saved her…
“She’s here because we’re about to go out on a date,” Hoax replied. “Here, help us dry the truck off.”
Hoax reached for the towel in my hands. Immediately after getting it, he tossed it at Brielle over the cab of the truck. It hit her in the face because she hadn’t been expecting the order.
Brielle peeled it away from her and stared at Hoax incredulously.
“I’m sorry, but what?”
Hoax laughed, as did Bayou. “Dry it off, Brie. You know, like this.”
I watched with amusement as Hoax demonstrated how to dry off the truck.
“I’m not dumb, Hoax. I’m just trying to figure out why you want me to dry it.” She tossed the towel onto the ground—the still wet ground—and glared.
Hoax sighed.
Bayou shuffled his hand through Brielle’s hair and then nudged her to the side. “Move if you’re not going to help.”
Brielle glared at me, then at Bayou. “Whatever. I’ll be inside. When you’re done, come get me.”
Then she walked inside, leaving me to wonder what made her think her shit didn’t stink.
After the door shut behind her with a loud, resounding boom, I looked over to find Hoax staring at me.
He wanted to know why Brielle hated me so much.
I glanced at Bayou, who’d moved down to the backside of the truck near the tailgate and shook my head. Hoax seemed to understand that and nodded his head once.
However, I wasn’t fooled. I knew that he’d ask about this again the first chance he got.
At one point, he moved closer to me until my body was practically pressed to his truck as he reached above my head and dried the roof that was too high for me to reach. I felt him from shoulder blades to ass and knew that he’d done it on purpose.
“You’ll tell me, right?” he asked as he pushed impossibly closer.
I nodded. “When we’re no longer being glared at by Bayou.”
My whisper was almost imperceptible, but somehow he heard me.
“I’ll make sure I get it out of you,” he promised me.
Which he did moments later when there was a loud crash followed by an enraged scream.
I shifted, staring at the house in surprise.
“What the fuck was that?” I asked in horror.
Bayou sighed, tossing his towel on the hood of the truck, and walked inside. “I’ll deal with it.”
When he left, I was left standing there, unsure what to do.
“Should I go in there and check to make sure she’s all right?” I wondered.
“No.” Hoax ignored whatever it was that had happened. “Now tell me why Bayou looks at you like you’re annoying, and refuses to talk to you.”
I felt my lips twitch. “Maybe I am annoying. Has that ever crossed your mind?”
“There’s no doubt in my mind that you’re annoying.” Before I could get pissed, he continued. “Annoyingly intelligent. Annoyingly beautiful. Annoyingly evasive…I could go on.”
I bit my tongue to keep from grinning.
I liked that he thought that about me.
“No, my head’s big enough right now already,” I told him honestly. Then my gaze sharpened. “Why do I feel like I know you?”
He stopped drying the truck—which was almost done now—and stared at me. “I don’t know.”
I sighed and threw my now-wet towel onto the banister that led up to Bayou’s porch.
“Now talk to me,” he ordered as I turned away.
I fidgeted with the towel, making sure that it was laid out smoothly for optimal drying ability, and then turned to take a seat on the first step that led up to Bayou’s porch.
I told him about Brielle and what had happened at a club party, not sparing a single detail.
He got this weird look on his face.
“I was there,” he told me. “Dixie is our grandfather. Dixie’s daughters are our mothers. I know exactly when you are talking about, too. I was fresh out of AIT—advanced individual training—and home for a week leave before I was assigned to my new base.”
I sure as hell couldn’t.
And when my favorite donut shop had that stupid ‘hot donuts’ sign in the shop window, I’d never been able to help myself. I’d go in and get one, whether I needed one or not.
It was just the way life was for me.
This man, with his sexy beard and his all-too-knowing eyes, was my glazed donut. Something that I couldn’t resist…and if I were being honest, something that I wanted to taste and devour.
“All those thoughts,” Hoax murmured, pulling me close once again. “Grab a towel, honey. Help me dry my truck off.”
Then he let me go, and I immediately missed the heat down the back of my pants.
I would not complain, or let him know that he was getting to me.
Instead, I did what he asked of me and went to the towel that was sitting on the bike that was parked nearest the front door.
I’d just reached it when I heard a car roll to a stop at the end of Hoax’s driveway.
Picking up the three towels, I tossed one to Bayou who still hadn’t said a word to me and tossed the other at Hoax who’d been waiting for me. Then I got to work on the drying of the large truck that I could only reach the bottom half of and thought about what I was doing.
Or, at least, I tried to.
There was a voice that interrupted my thoughts, and I felt my body jolt.
I knew that voice.
That same voice had called me a bitch eight years ago, and I still remembered the high-pitch whine of it.
And yep, the urge to throat punch the woman was still there.
“What are you doing?” Brielle asked, sounding miffed. “I thought I was borrowing the truck. Why isn’t it ready?”
She hadn’t seen me yet, so I chose to stay where I was, doing what I was doing, despite my small part that I could reach being more than adequately dry.
“Washing the truck,” Hoax said. “Because you decided to park it under a tree that you knew damn well the birds congregated in. It’ll be ready in about five minutes, just gotta finish drying it first.”
The woman huffed. “It was either I park it there, or walk an extra block.”
I rolled my eyes heavenward and moved slightly, dropping down to my haunches so that I could reach the bottom half of the door.
“Oh, God. The thought of you having to walk an extra block really hurts my heart,” Hoax drawled, sounding so smart-assy that I wanted to laugh.
“You don’t understand,” Brielle sniped. “You’re not a woman. You have no clue.”
“Then enlighten us,” Bayou said. “Because I don’t like cleaning bird shit off of trucks. I also told him if it came back damaged in any way, I’d be sure to help fix it. But seriously, Brielle. This is ridiculous. You can’t borrow people’s belongings and then not return them how they were given to you. It doesn’t work that way.”
I agreed wholeheartedly again, not that I would admit that aloud.
I already didn’t like this woman. I didn’t need any more ammunition.
“Whatever,” she snarled. “It wasn’t in any worse condition than when I got it. The windshield was disgusting.”
“The windshield was disgusting because the goddamn bugs here are horrible. But, since we’re on the subject of your selfishness, let’s discuss why you left a goddamn box of sushi in it all night and now it smells like fish. Or how about the fact that you somehow managed to use all of my fuel when you were only ‘driving it to work to pick up a few large boxes,’” Hoax said, sounding agitated.
I clenched my teeth, and in my annoyance, I stood up and inadvertently revealed myself to the woman.
She saw me, her eyes narrowed, and then recognition dawned.
“What the fuck is she doing here?” Brielle snarled.
Obviously, she didn’t forget me any more than I forgot her.
Good.
I didn’t want her to forget the woman that almost knocked her ass out.
If her brother hadn’t saved her…
“She’s here because we’re about to go out on a date,” Hoax replied. “Here, help us dry the truck off.”
Hoax reached for the towel in my hands. Immediately after getting it, he tossed it at Brielle over the cab of the truck. It hit her in the face because she hadn’t been expecting the order.
Brielle peeled it away from her and stared at Hoax incredulously.
“I’m sorry, but what?”
Hoax laughed, as did Bayou. “Dry it off, Brie. You know, like this.”
I watched with amusement as Hoax demonstrated how to dry off the truck.
“I’m not dumb, Hoax. I’m just trying to figure out why you want me to dry it.” She tossed the towel onto the ground—the still wet ground—and glared.
Hoax sighed.
Bayou shuffled his hand through Brielle’s hair and then nudged her to the side. “Move if you’re not going to help.”
Brielle glared at me, then at Bayou. “Whatever. I’ll be inside. When you’re done, come get me.”
Then she walked inside, leaving me to wonder what made her think her shit didn’t stink.
After the door shut behind her with a loud, resounding boom, I looked over to find Hoax staring at me.
He wanted to know why Brielle hated me so much.
I glanced at Bayou, who’d moved down to the backside of the truck near the tailgate and shook my head. Hoax seemed to understand that and nodded his head once.
However, I wasn’t fooled. I knew that he’d ask about this again the first chance he got.
At one point, he moved closer to me until my body was practically pressed to his truck as he reached above my head and dried the roof that was too high for me to reach. I felt him from shoulder blades to ass and knew that he’d done it on purpose.
“You’ll tell me, right?” he asked as he pushed impossibly closer.
I nodded. “When we’re no longer being glared at by Bayou.”
My whisper was almost imperceptible, but somehow he heard me.
“I’ll make sure I get it out of you,” he promised me.
Which he did moments later when there was a loud crash followed by an enraged scream.
I shifted, staring at the house in surprise.
“What the fuck was that?” I asked in horror.
Bayou sighed, tossing his towel on the hood of the truck, and walked inside. “I’ll deal with it.”
When he left, I was left standing there, unsure what to do.
“Should I go in there and check to make sure she’s all right?” I wondered.
“No.” Hoax ignored whatever it was that had happened. “Now tell me why Bayou looks at you like you’re annoying, and refuses to talk to you.”
I felt my lips twitch. “Maybe I am annoying. Has that ever crossed your mind?”
“There’s no doubt in my mind that you’re annoying.” Before I could get pissed, he continued. “Annoyingly intelligent. Annoyingly beautiful. Annoyingly evasive…I could go on.”
I bit my tongue to keep from grinning.
I liked that he thought that about me.
“No, my head’s big enough right now already,” I told him honestly. Then my gaze sharpened. “Why do I feel like I know you?”
He stopped drying the truck—which was almost done now—and stared at me. “I don’t know.”
I sighed and threw my now-wet towel onto the banister that led up to Bayou’s porch.
“Now talk to me,” he ordered as I turned away.
I fidgeted with the towel, making sure that it was laid out smoothly for optimal drying ability, and then turned to take a seat on the first step that led up to Bayou’s porch.
I told him about Brielle and what had happened at a club party, not sparing a single detail.
He got this weird look on his face.
“I was there,” he told me. “Dixie is our grandfather. Dixie’s daughters are our mothers. I know exactly when you are talking about, too. I was fresh out of AIT—advanced individual training—and home for a week leave before I was assigned to my new base.”
