THIS IS BAD. THE THOUGHT plays on a loop in my brain. Dare stood up for me. He defended me. He took me home to protect me. Then he fucked me like a god. It’s starting to feel like…more.
I step out of Dare’s steaming shower and wrap myself in the white towel he hung for me. After fucking me into oblivion, I declared that I needed a shower. I was covered in sex and tears and sweat, and I needed to wash today off me. I spot a pile of clothes that Dare left on the granite sink.
This house is as much of a mystery as the man himself. It’s a gorgeous home, but there’s nothing personal anywhere, except for a set of three black and white pine trees framed above his simple king-sized bed.
I pull the shirt over my head—this time black—and a pair of boxer briefs over my hips. Combing my fingers through my hair, I look at my reflection. My cheeks are flushed, lips swollen, but my eyes look tired. I open the door and pad across the hardwood floor of Dare’s bedroom, not stopping until I reach the edge of the bed where he sits in those gray sweats, no shirt, tattooed torso on display.
Dare slides a hand up the back of my calf to my bent knee and presses his forehead against my thigh. The gesture feels decidedly intimate, and I wonder if maybe something is shifting for him, too. Tentatively, I run my hand through his hair, and he leans into my touch.
“Let’s sleep,” he mumbles, leaning back to lie down on his pillow, crossing his arms behind his head. I don’t argue about sleeping in his bed. That would be weird, considering he now knows parts of my body better than I do. I crawl into his bed, lying on my side to face him. His profile is illuminated by soft light coming from the lamp on his nightstand—sharp jaw, stubble on his cheeks, lips pressed in a hard line.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“What’s the story with you guys?” He doesn’t specify what he means, as if he’s been fixating on Eric since earlier today. I huff out a breath, rolling onto my back.
“How many times do I have to go over this?” I ask, resigned.
“I just want to understand.”
I sigh, staring at the ceiling. As long as I don’t have to see the look in his eyes, I can tell him.
“I was nannying for another family. One of the girls had a birthday party, and Eric approached me. He told me he was looking for a nanny and offered me a shit ton of cash.” I give a humorless laugh. “We were so broke, it wasn’t even funny. It got to the point where we had to decide whether we wanted to live without electricity or food. Mom spent every dime on drugs, and Jess was dealing them to help pay bills. I couldn’t pass it up.
“He spun this whole story about how he needed help with his son, Cayden, because his wife was addicted to painkillers and alcohol. Stupidly, I related to that. I wanted to help him.”
“That’s not stupid,” Dare interjects.
“It was,” I disagree. “One night when I was about to leave, he sat at his desk—just like he did at the end of every week—to write my check. I remember thinking something was different because he was taking a long time. I sat there, feeling awkward, playing video games with Cayden while I waited. When he finally handed me the check, it was significantly more than he usually paid me, and there was a sticky note attached to it that said he wanted me to meet him in his office in ten minutes.”
I inhale deeply.
“That’s when we slept together.”
Dare grits his teeth, but he doesn’t say anything.
“He told me his marriage was over, that she simply stayed there to save face, but they hadn’t been together in a long time. I believed him because I rarely ever saw her, and if I did, she was blitzed out of her mind. Part of me felt like I had to be with him, or he’d fire me. Part of me liked that someone of his caliber wanted me.” I roll my eyes, knowing how fucking stupid and pathetic that sounds.
“Slowly, he became increasingly possessive. It’s like he thought he had the right to control every aspect of my life because he paid me well. I stuck around for way too long because I didn’t want to leave Cayden, but I didn’t sleep with him again. Eventually, I took other nanny jobs, tried to distance myself. When I wouldn’t answer his calls, he started showing up unannounced. I’d be in the shower or sleeping in my bed, and he’d be there. ‘Checking in,’ he’d say. He accused me of sleeping with the other dads I worked for, called me a whore, a gold digger. He made me feel like shit about myself, and for a while, I thought he was all I deserved. All I cared about—all I still care about—is being able to take care of Jesse. He’s the only thing that matters to me.”
Dare nods but doesn’t interrupt my verbal diarrhea.
“Jess hated him from the start. He knew he was bad news, and they constantly butted heads.”
“What made you finally leave?”
This is the part I hate talking about. The part that makes me feel like the worst kind of human. But I decide to purge it all. To get it over with so I don’t have to rehash it again. “Right before we left, I went to hang the towels in their upstairs bathroom. Before I could flip the light on, I slipped in something. It was blood. I freaked out. I didn’t know who or where it came from, but Cayden was at school, so at least I knew it wasn’t him.
“I checked all the rooms before finding his wife, Olivia. She had apparently miscarried and was barely conscious. I didn’t know whether it was because she was fucked up on pills or losing too much blood, but both were true.” Or at least, I thought she was losing too much blood. I’d never had a miscarriage before—didn’t know what was normal—but it seemed excessive to me.
“Fuck,” Dare says, reaching over to link his fingers with mine.
“I called an ambulance, called Eric, then waited with her until they got there. She was mumbling incoherently, but I’m fluent in drug-induced ramblings, thanks to my mom. She said she knew I’d slept with Eric. Accused me of being the reason that she was so stressed. Said it caused her to miscarry and that this baby was supposed to fix things.”
“You know it doesn’t work like that,” Dare says quietly.
“I know.” I nod. And I do. I know it wasn’t my fault. The only thing I’m guilty of is being too naïve and believing his lies. They were never separated, like he led me to believe. And playing a role in that fucked-up situation doesn’t feel good no matter who’s at fault.
“Jess got kicked out of school for hacking their system and got caught up in some trouble with the guys he was dealing for. My mom’s boyfriend beat the shit out of both Jess and me because we wouldn’t give him drug money, and when the cops showed up on our doorstep, I took my opportunity. I ratted my mom and her boyfriend out, and when they took her to jail, I called Henry, packed a couple bags, and left with Jess the next morning.”
“That’s why you had a black eye when we met?” Dare asks, his voice deadly calm, but his expression murderous. He cups my cheek, and I nod, soaking up his touch, my hands covering his wrist.
“I just wanted a fresh start,” I breathe, tears pricking my eyes. “I hate talking about this stuff,” I say, covering my eyes with my forearm. “It’s embarrassing.”
“You were trying to take care of your family. There’s no fucking shame in that. I wish I had someone who cared about me half as much as you care about your brother.”
“Tell me about you?” I ask, hoping he doesn’t deny me after spilling all that stuff about myself.
“Quid pro quo, huh?” He’s on his side facing me now. His voice is so nonchalant, but I can tell he feels anything but. “I never knew my parents. I was left in a parking lot when I was four, along with a note with my first name and birthday. No last name. I guess I was found at the store on Adair Street, so that’s where my last name comes from.”
My eyes widen at his words. He mentioned being in foster care, but I didn’t know the details. I feel stupid for being so wrapped up in my own stupid problems that pale in comparison.
“I wasn’t where I should’ve been, developmentally speaking. I was small. Malnourished. I barely spoke. I didn’t even know my last name,” he says, giving a bitter laugh. “What four-year-old doesn’t know their own name? I had behavioral issues, too. No one wanted that. They wanted to adopt adorable bouncing babies with big gummy smiles. When I got older, I was mad at the world, jumping from foster family to foster family, never staying anywhere for more than a few months, and the ones who did keep me were usually abusive pieces of shit who just wanted a paycheck.”
“That’s awful.” My tears are for a completely different reason now. My heart physically hurts thinking of little Stefan, all alone in a parking lot. We might have been dirt-poor, but at least Jess and I always had each other growing up. That was one thing we could always count on.
On the day Dare and I met, he told me he’d wet the bed until he was twelve. I’d laughed, thinking it was just embarrassing kid stuff. Now, I feel like a pile of shit because it was so much more than that. “You never had one family that was good to you?”
A darkness flashes across his features. “I did, for a while…” He trails off, seemingly lost in a memory before clearing his throat. “But it didn’t work out.”
I reach out to trace the pine tree silhouettes on his forearm. I don’t know why, I just feel the need to touch him in this moment. Dare tenses, but he doesn’t pull away. I feel something rough and bumpy under the ink, and when I look closer, I see the skin is slightly raised there.
“What happened here?”
“Double compound fracture. Two plates. Ten screws.”
“Jesus, what were you doing?” I run my fingers along the line that runs from the top of his forearm down to his wrist.
“Fell on the ice.”
“It looks like a centipede,” I remark. When I look up, Dare’s staring at me intently. I notice the faint freckles on his nose for the first time. They make him look innocent and boyish—two words no one would ever use to describe him, I’m sure.
“What?” I ask, pulling back.
“Can I…try something?”
“If it’s anal, the answer is no. I’m too tired,” I say, trying to bring some levity to the conversation.
“Not tha—wait, you’d let me if you weren’t too tired?” he asks, raising a brow. A half-smile tugs at his lips, and I feel victorious for putting it there.
“I’m joking,” I say, slapping his arm. “What were you going to say?”
“This.” The brief, playful demeanor is gone, and in its place is something almost vulnerable. I don’t know where he’s going with this until he nudges me over and settles in behind me, curling his arm around my waist, his nose in my hair.
“Cuddling? You want to try cuddling?” I ask, incredulous.
“I’ve never done it,” he admits.
Something shifts in this moment, and I realize Dare and I might be more alike than I thought.
“Me neither,” I whisper. He squeezes tighter and cups my breast.
“Just for a little while.”
A repetitive dripping sound pulls me from consciousness. It’s still dark, and Dare is molded to me, arms wrapped around me like a boa constrictor, his knee between both of mine. The rhythmic breathing on my neck tells me he’s asleep. Careful not to wake him, I peel myself away from him, following the sound toward the window.
Tiptoeing across the hardwood, I slide open one side of the black curtains and I almost squeal, my hand flying to my mouth to muffle the sound. Everything is covered in a blanket of white, illuminated by the bright moon peeking through the snow-covered trees.
I move silently through Dare’s room and down the stairs, shoving my feet into my boots before plucking Dare’s hoodie off the back of one of the barstools at his counter. I leave the door cracked behind me and walk out into the field of snow. Dare lives in the middle of nowhere, his closest neighbor probably a mile away, so it’s nothing but snow and trees as far as the eye can see. The peacefulness of it all is almost enough to make me emotional, still feeling raw—a lingering effect from our conversation before we fell asleep. I tilt my head back, letting fluffy, oversized snowflakes hit my cheeks.
Arms lock around my waist from behind, and I jump before I hear Dare’s sleepy voice in my ear. “What the hell are you doing, Sally?” His taunting nickname now feels almost…endearing. I don’t hate it.
“You live in Narnia,” I say quietly, leaning into him.
“Why are you whispering?” He nibbles at my earlobe, and for a minute, I forget all about the snow.
“I don’t know. It seems like I have to be quiet out here.”
Dare chuckles, and I turn around in his arms. He’s wearing his sweats, but his torso is bare.
“Aren’t you freezing?” I ask, and he pulls his hood over my head, tightening the strings.
“I’m used to the cold,” he says, eyes running the length of my body, fingering the hem of his hoodie that falls mid-thigh. “But you look good in my jacket.”
I answer him by unzipping said jacket, revealing bare skin underneath. He groans when he realizes I’m wearing nothing else but boots, his hands landing on my ribs. Lifting onto my toes, I use the jacket to cover both of us, our bodies molding together.
Dare brushes his thumbs against my nipples, and I shiver, my lips parting on a sigh. He takes the opportunity to slide his tongue between my lips before sweeping it inside. I circle my arms around his neck, and he lifts me. My legs wrap around him, boots locking behind his back, my already slick center against his lean abs. This kiss is slower. Deeper. Snow falls around us, but our bodies are too busy speaking a language our tongues don’t speak to care about the cold.
“Wait here for a second,” he says when we finally break apart. I stand, arms wrapped around my middle to keep warm as Dare runs back inside the house. When he comes back out, he has a Thrasher hoodie on and two blankets in his arms. He wraps one of them around my shoulders.
“I want to show you something,” he says cryptically.
“If you’re about to show me a dead body, I’m out.” I follow him into the wooded area, my boots crunching against pine needles and leaves coated with a thin layer of snow. We walk for maybe five minutes before we come to a clearing. Dare spreads the blanket out onto the ground, sitting right in the middle. He holds his hand out for me to join him. I move to sit next to him, but he pulls me in between his bent knees.
He takes the other blanket from me and covers my front before resting his chin on my shoulder.
“I’ve been coming here to be alone for more than ten years. You can probably still find where I carved into that tree over there,” he says, pointing off to the left.
“What’s it say? Dare was here?” I tease.
“Probably more like fuck off.”
I laugh, holding out my palm to catch the snowflakes.
“It’s beautiful out here. Peaceful.”
“That’s why I had to live here. My house was nothing more than a shack when it went up for sale. It was a piece of shit and dirt cheap, but I wanted it. I added on and fixed it up. It’s taken me years, and it’s still not completely done.”
We’re silent for a while—long enough for the cold ground to start seeping through the blanket. My butt is numb, but I’ll sit out here all day long if it means seeing this uncensored side to Dare.
“This is what I wanted to show you,” he says, just as the sun starts to peek through the trees, casting a pinkish glow where it hits the fog. This moment feels like magic. Like something out of a fairytale. Fairytales are for princesses, I remind myself. Not ghetto girls from Oakland. But right now, in Dare’s arms, I can pretend. Even if only for a while.
“I could stay here forever,” I say, leaning my head back onto his shoulder. Dare bites the shell of my ear, and I shiver, but it’s not from the cold.
“Let’s get you warm.”
Dare leads me back inside, and I’m confused when he doesn’t go back upstairs, but out the back door. Walking over to the hot tub, he lifts the cover, and I all but run over, kicking my boots off on the way. That is definitely what I need right now.
“A hot tub, huh? I bet this is where you bring all your dates.” I wiggle my brows.
“Actually, I think I’m the only one who hasn’t had sex in this thing.”
“Well, now it’s my turn. It’s only fair.” I bite my lip, unzipping his jacket before letting it fall to the ground.
“Thank God for chlorine.” Dare takes his hoodie off, too, drops his sweatpants, and I gulp at the thin happy trail between his Adonis belt, pointing to his thick cock, already hard. I do nothing to hide the fact that I’m staring. I’ve never felt this kind of attraction before. I step into the Jacuzzi, lowering my naked self into the water. Goosebumps break out all over my body, and my stomach flips as I watch Dare’s tattooed body move toward me. He flips a switch on the side, the jets bubbling to life as he joins me.
He sits on the submerged seat, pulling me onto his lap. His erection bobs between us, and I lean forward to rub myself along his length. Dare fills me with a shift of his hips, groaning once he’s fully impaled me. “I think you’re my new favorite hobby.”
Ditto.
Seeing Lo in the snow the other night was a sight I’ll never forget. Unlaced boots, hoodie to her knees, sleeves hanging past her hands, pretty face tipped toward the sky. She’s been hardened by life, and she puts on a tough front, but show the girl some snow, and her eyes fill with childlike wonder. It reminded me that she’s still just a twenty-one-year-old girl underneath all that false bravado.
It also reminded me that the girl needs some fucking winter clothes. The snow is officially here, and I saw her head into Blackbear yesterday morning with nothing but that stupid flannel to keep her warm. Which brings me to now. In the tourist trap near The Pines Ski Resort with Briar and Cam’s girl, Mollie, on my lunch break. Cam used to teach snowboarding lessons here, and he knows all about brand names and what’s best in the snow—shit that I’ve never cared to learn. When I texted him, recruiting his help, he sent me a text with a bunch of hahahahahas followed by you’re next before sending Mollie and Briar in his place, much to my annoyance. If I wanted Briar’s help, I would’ve asked her myself. She’ll never let this go.
“Oh, this store,” Briar says excitedly, pulling me inside by my sleeve. “What size do you think she is? Small? Medium?”
“Fuck if I know.” I could probably guess her bra size, but I don’t know shit about women’s clothing.
“Let’s go with medium to be safe,” Mollie says, combing through a rack of coats. “Plus, if it’s a little big, she’ll have room for layers.”
“I don’t care what you guys get, just make sure it’s warm. And casual. She doesn’t like that fancy shit,” I say, earning a quizzical look from Briar. Once Mollie is out of earshot, Briar approaches, and I already know what’s coming.
“You really like this girl.” It’s a statement, one I don’t bother denying because I’m starting to think she’s right. “Be careful, okay?”
I throw her a confused look. “Be careful about what?”
“Just…everything. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
It still takes me by surprise when Briar says something that shows she genuinely cares. I mean, she cares about everyone—that’s just who she is—but it’s hard to get used to. She’s seen a couple of the girls that I’ve hooked up with, but she’s never expressed any feelings about them either way.
“Lo’s not like that. She’s different.”
“And that’s why I worry.” Briar gives me a one-armed hug. “But I’m really happy for you. I like her,” she says genuinely.
See? Never letting it go. Girls are so dramatic.
“Okay, so I found this Burton jacket that I’d die for.” Mollie appears, holding up a white coat with fur around the hood. “Plus, it’s reversible and super warm. And this, too, because puffer vests are so cute right now.”
“I’ll pick out some boots,” Briar says. “I’ll grab a seven and a half, but keep the receipts just in case.”
The girls raid the shop while I stand in the corner with my hands in my pockets, waiting. They come back, fifteen minutes later, arms full.
“I tried to find sales. I might have gotten a little carried away,” Briar says sheepishly, and I laugh. “You can pick through what you want, and I’ll put back the rest.”
“It’s cool. Let’s check out.” We’re at the counter when a thought occurs to me. I turn to Mollie. “Grab some stuff for her brother, too. Whatever Cam would get.” She nods, quickly gathering a beanie, a jacket, some wool socks, and a pair of boots. Briar is looking at me like I’ve grown three heads.
“What? You don’t want them ending up like the Donner Party, do you?”
“Definitely not. Cannibalism is so 1800s.” She rolls her eyes. “You have a good heart.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t tell anyone.”
“I’d never ruin your rep like that,” she says, knocking my arm with her shoulder. I hand her my credit card, opting to wait outside while they hit a couple more stores. I’m not rich, but I make a solid living, and I don’t have shit to spend it on.
When Mollie and Briar show up three bags heavier, I thank them both for their help before driving back to Bad Intentions. As I walk up, bags in hand, I see Lo through the window, smiling at an elderly couple as she pulls a pen out of her messy ponytail. I realize I didn’t think this thing through. I can’t just walk into Blackbear and hand her free shit. Knowing Lo, it would embarrass her. Her pride won’t let her accept it.
Saving me from indecision, Sutton walks through the door, a concerned expression on her face. She motions for me to follow her, stopping in front of the brick wall that connects our buildings.
“Do I need to worry about Lo?” she asks, and at first, I think she’s referring to me, but then I realize she’s talking about Eric showing up the other night.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly, dragging a hand down my face. “I think he got the message. Matty really drilled it into him.” And by ‘drilled it into him’, I mean beat the shit out of him.
“Good,” she says, unfazed by the implication. “She tries to act like he’s harmless, but I get bad vibes.”
“Yeah, she does that,” I say bitterly. “Speaking of Lo, you mind giving these to her?” I hold out the bags. Sutton lifts a dark eyebrow, peeking inside.
“What’s all this?”
“Figured she’d need some warmer stuff. She’s too stubborn to buy anything for herself.” I know she’s gotten paid from Blackbear, not to mention the fact that she gets tips daily. I also know things are tight. Most of her money goes to Jesse, between food, lunch money, wrestling equipment, and fees. In her mind, there will always be something more important to spend her money on. I get it. I’m the same way. Even though my circumstances have changed, some things are just too deeply ingrained to change at a certain point.
Sutton gives me the same look Briar did. The one that tells me she just saw me in a different light, and for some reason, it irritates me. People used to look at me like I was a rabid dog. I didn’t mind it because it meant they left me alone. But now, I’m being looked at like a baby golden retriever. “Just make sure she gets them, okay?” I snap.
“Fine,” Sutton relents, shrugging her shoulders.
“And, uh…” I scratch at the stubble on my cheek. “Don’t let her know they’re from me.”
She hesitates, then finally gives me a nod before heading back inside. I don’t wait around to see Lo’s reaction. When I open the door to my shop, Cam is sitting in his brother’s chair, getting a touch-up on his leg. Cordell lets out a low whistle when he sees me, while Cam smirks, clearly amused. Apparently, he told him about my phone call.
“You can both fuck off.” I walk straight back to the drawing room while I wait for my next client. Not five minutes goes by before I hear the door ding, and Lo’s voice echoes through the shop.
“Where’s Dare?” she almost yells. Shit. She’s angry.
“He’s definitely not back in the drawing room!” Cam yells loudly for my benefit. I’m mentally gearing up for a fight, listing all the reasons she needs to just shut up and accept it when she barges through the door.
“Did you do this?” she demands, thrusting the bag she’s holding in my direction.
“I…no?”
“Don’t lie to me. I can tolerate a lot of things, but liars aren’t one of them.” Her eyes fill with tears, and her bottom lip trembles. Jesus, I knew she’d fight it, but I didn’t know she’d be this upset about it.
“Fine. I bought it, but it doesn’t mean—”
Lo cuts me off, throwing herself at me. Her lips land on mine, and her tongue slips inside, kissing me fiercely. I don’t question the sudden shift. Instead, I lift her onto my desk and kiss her back just as enthusiastically. I dip both hands down the back of her leggings, soaking up her warmth. Feeding off it. She pulls back, eyes still glassy.
“You thought of Jesse,” she says, sniffing.
“He’s important to you,” is all I can think to say. I kiss the single tear that runs down her cheek, and as if a bell sounds, announcing round two, we go at each other again. Lo grips me through my jeans, and I half-chuckle, half-groan.
“I’d have bought you clothes a long time ago if I knew it got you so hot,” I tease.
“Shut up,” she says against my lips. We kiss some more, never taking it further—just kissing and touching and rubbing—before she pulls away, breathless. “I have to get back to work.”
“Have you heard from him?” I ask, cupping the back of her neck, not bothering to specify whom I’m referring to.
“Not a peep. It’s weird. Whatever you guys said to him seems to have worked.”
I nod, pulling her in for another kiss as I squeeze her ass and then give it a slap. “Can I see you later?”
Lo bites her lip and nods. “I’m having a couple drinks with Sutton after my shift, but I’ll stop by after.” She hops off the desk, straightening her ponytail and adjusting her shirt before meeting my eyes again. “Thank you,” she says, gesturing toward the bag on the floor. “I’m going to pay you back for all of it. I promise.”
“Don’t make it a big deal.”
“It is to me.”