Chapter 8

That face you make when you go back and read the texts you sent in a fit of anger.

-Text from Hennessy to Krisney

Hennessy

I laid in my bed, looking at the ceiling, for well over an hour before I’d finally had enough.

This shit had to stop.

Tomorrow was a Friday, sure, but I still had to be up at the crack of dawn. A patient could only see me on Friday mornings before work, which meant I had to get up at six, to get to the office at seven, to see him by seven fifteen.

Getting up early was not conducive with getting no sleep.

Which was why, as I threw the covers off of me, and stood up, I decided that this loud music couldn’t go on. Not to mention the occasional whine of a saw, or the tap-tap of a hammer.

I couldn’t do it anymore.

I was on the block with one other house, and that house had been rocking since the new occupants had moved into it three days ago.

At first, I understood the noise. The house itself needed a lot of freakin’ work.

But that work didn’t need to be going on at twelve o’clock at night.

Reaching down onto the floor for my sweatpants, I pulled them on, then walked in my slouchy socks that I’d stolen from Krisney, who’d stolen them from Reed Hail when we were in high school, out the door of my house.

I made it down the steps, and to the front walk, when I realized that I’d forgotten shoes.

But I didn’t care.

I was too mad at this point to care if I had shoes or not.

I was a determined woman, and this shit was about. To go. Down.

The closer I got to the sound of the saws and the music, the more I realized that maybe I wasn’t as brave as I thought.

What if this man was a killer? What if he was a woman hater…what if he…

“What are you doing here at twelve in the morning?”

I looked up to find the last man I ever thought I’d see steps away from the stupid saw that was making so much noise in the middle of the night.

My neighborhood was very quiet at night…usually.

It was the road that led to downtown, and since downtown was closed after about eight in the evening, most of the time I barely heard anything.

There were two houses on the entire road, mine, and the one that the man was standing in the doorway of.

“I’m here,” I said, licking my suddenly dry lips, “because I have to be up at the butt crack of dawn, and you’re over here making a lot of noise…though I didn’t know it was you who was making the noise.”

Tate’s lips twitched, and he held open the door.

“What’s too loud, my music?”

I followed him when he disappeared inside, and stayed on his heels the entire way, even though I wanted nothing more than to inspect every inch of the home I found myself now standing in.

“Your music, and whatever saw thing you keep using that makes a loud ‘zinging’ noise each time you use it,” I explained loudly so I could be heard over the roar of the radio.

He was in the process of turning down the music, so the last two words of my sentence were very loud in the sudden silence.

He grinned and I blushed, immediately turning away so my eyes didn’t take him in.

It was a useless endeavor, though.

Every single solid inch of the man was burned into my brain.

Tonight, he was wearing a pair of jeans, brown work boots, and that was it.

He was dripping sweat, and I wanted nothing more but to lick one of the droplets off with my mouth.

I refrained, however, but only just barely.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize it was loud enough for you to hear it.”

I immediately went into ‘it’s okay’ mode.

“It’s okay,” I lied, dancing from one foot to the other. “Well, see ya.”

And that was how I started walking out the door, and ended up hitting my head on something I never saw coming.

Come to find out, it was a ladder.

***

“Hey, girl.”

I blinked open an eye and stared up into a man’s beautiful eyes, wondering if I’d died and gone to Heaven.

“I like your beard,” I told him. “It’s nice.”

I brought my hand up to run over said beard, and liked how soft it was. You wouldn’t think it was soft, though. Not with the way the rest of him was so hard, but it was.

“Thanks,” he grinned. “How’s your head feeling?”

I blinked, then thought about that question for a little bit.

“The top of it feels like I shaved it with a cheese grater,” I told him.

“Why would you know what it feels like to be shaved with a cheese grater?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

The movement made his Adam’s apple bob, and I wondered if it’d be weird to suck it.

Probably.

“Why are you looking at my neck like that?” he asked.

I blushed and returned my eyes to his. Which was the wrong move.

The man was laughing at me, and that made my back straighten as my cranky bitch came out to play.

I was not a nice person when I didn’t get enough sleep. Never had been.

Even to Krisney.

She’d made the mistake of waking me from a nap one time, and one time only, and we were lucky to still be friends seeing as I threw an entire can of Dr. Pepper at her that I’d been drinking before I’d nodded off. This had been during college where we’d shared a dorm room, and she’d not come home for two days in fear that I’d retaliate in some way.

I’d, of course, felt freakin’ horrible.

“Nothing,” I lied. “And the cheese grater?” I winced. “When I was in college, I was dancing drunk on a table with a chandelier made of metal stuff. Part of it had holes in it that gave this decorative effect on the floor beneath it. When I was dancing, I thought it’d be a wonderful thing to start jumping…you can see where this is going.”

He blinked innocently. “No, I can’t. Please finish.”

I rolled my eyes and said, “I started jumping up and down, and one of those times I guess I did it high enough that I reached the chandelier. I scraped off the top of my head, and the very edge of my forehead.”

He frowned. “Your hair seems to cover the spots just fine.”

I shifted my bangs—that I grew out specifically to hide the lovely designs on my forehead—and showed him my scars.

He whistled between his teeth. “Groovy scar.”

I smiled, but it didn’t reach my eyes.

“Thank you for turning it down,” I said, making my way to stand.

He helped me to my feet and looked down at me.

That was when I realized that not only was he now shirtless, he was also pantless.

“You’re…” I hesitated, searching for the right words. “You’re nearly naked.”

He nodded.

“I pressed the pant leg against your scalp to stop the bleeding.” He paused. “I didn’t have anything else to use.”

That was when I realized that I was still clutching his pants in my hands.

I offered them to him, but the moment I did, I felt a fresh wave of blood ooze down my forehead.

“Dangit,” I grumbled, putting it back. “Is it bad?”

He shrugged. “It’ll stop eventually. You just took the top layer of skin off the side of your forehead.

Wonderful. Just freakin’ great. Perfect.

“I have a date today,” I moaned. “He’s going to love seeing this.”

Something changed in his complexion, and I blinked, trying to ascertain what it was. The moment that I did, he smoothed out his features into an impenetrable stare.

“Who’s the date with?” he questioned.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s a blind date set up by Krisney. Since she’s back, she’s determined to have me dating again.”

“Again?” he questioned. “You mean you stopped at one point?”

I nodded. “I did. At first, I dated a few men from the church, but since they go there, my dad is always in the back of their minds. They treat me like I’m a kid, or a woman who’s a preacher’s daughter, then wonder why I don’t enjoy the date.”

He started to chuckle, and it was then I realized that I’d been staring at his abs, which jumped when he laughed. Which were mighty close to the boxer briefs he was wearing. Which covered his impressive…

I looked away again, my mind really starting to run.

Oh, God. He had a big cock. He was also not hard.

What would it look like if he…I shut down those thoughts again.

“You’re dating the wrong guys then,” he pointed out. “If you were dating the right ones, they wouldn’t give a fuck who your father was. They’d be caring about who you were.”

I smiled, and the move made my forehead throb, which reminded me that I was standing in the middle of the man’s kitchen—which might I add was going to be fantastic when he was done—with his pants pressed to my forehead.

I dropped the pants from my head and handed them back.

When I felt the drop start, I brought the tail of my shirt up, thankful that I was wearing a stretchy one, and pressed it to my head.

“I’ll see you around, Tate.”

He watched me go, not stopping me this time, and I found myself disappointed.

I wanted him to ask me to stay, but even I knew how stupid that would be.

I was the daughter of a man who hated his guts, and he was the man who hated my father.

I wasn’t fond of my father, either, but he was still my father.

That would never change.

And even if it did, which I knew it wouldn’t, Tate would never go for a girl like me.