Page 3 of His Hellcat

“Uh... for?” He stutters. I’ve obviously confused him with my mercurial change in mood.

I look up and give him a watery smile, “For saving my brother.”

“Are you Blake?” He asks, dumbfounded. “Drake’s little sister?”

I can’t choke back the laughter, “Yep, by exactly two minutes. Did he not tell you we’re twins?”

“Um, no, the way he talks about you I assumed you were a kid with skinned knees and pigtails. Not…,” his eyes take me in again, “not a grown woman.”

Fuckin’ Drake. He always talks about me like I’m still chasing bugs and digging up worms with him and his goober friends. I never was a Barbie dolls and tea party kind of girl. Total tomboy, through and through.

Hell, sometimes with my name people completely forgot I even was a girl. Well, until I hit puberty that is. The boob fairy was very kind to me at a young age. Didn’t change my tomboy ways, much to my parents chagrin.

I have five brothers; I’m technically the youngest and the only girl out of six kids. Mom was excited to finally have an excuse to buy cute frilly dresses, pink everything, and other girly stuff. Instead, she got me. I wore my brothers’ hand-me-downs instead of those pretty pink dresses and every time momma tried to let my hair grow, I would shear it off as soon as I found the scissors. It wasn’t until I went away to college that I even considered the benefits of my feminine frame.

I smirk up at the handsome hero, “My brother likes to forget that I’m all grown up now, too. We haven’t seen each other in many, many years.” I sniffle at the thought. “He decided to enlist instead of heading off to college with me and he hasn’t been home since.”

Hutch’s arms flex around me. “The life we signed up for makes it difficult. This is the first time in a long while I’ve been stateside myself. It is a major adjustment for sure.”

I nod my head in understanding and slowly extract myself from his arms, realizing that I am pressing my very wet, and not so appropriately attired body up against him. Another loud crack of thunder makes me nearly jump out of my skin and I grab onto Hutch’s arm, causing him to chuckle.

“How about we go inside and get you cleaned up?” He suggests before looking out towards the drive then back at me a couple of times. Putting his hand low on my back he guides me to the door. “So where is your car?”

I can’t hold back my huff of frustration, “The stupid rental got a flat tire a few miles down the road and of course it didn’t come with a damn spare, so I walked.”

Looking down at my bare, muddy feet he raises his eyebrow in question.

“I was wearing fancy heels and after a mile or so my feet hurt. Imayhave thrown them into the woods.” I fold my arms over my chest in defense. “I’ve had a shitty day. I came here to get away from everything. And so far, nothing—and I mean nothing—is turning out like I anticipated.”

I braced myself for a lecture, knowing from what Drake has said about Hutch that he would never have been caught in half the situations I found myself in these last twenty-four hours. Of course, I was proven wrong yet again when he did the last thing I would have expected. He tilted his head back and let out a burst of laughter. The sound was like a warm brownie, fresh from the oven, delicious and forbidden. I could never pass up a warm brownie, so for the first time today I wasn’t surprised when I let go and laugh right along with him.

It was ridiculous. Never in a million years would I have pictured myself soaked to the bone, covered in mud, freshly scorned by both my fiancé and best friend, standing in the middle of nowhere with a virtual stranger, laughing my ass off at the absurdity of it all. It doesn’t take long for my laughter to turn into tears. I’m not even aware it happened, but there I am cuddled back into Hutch’s hard chest as I cry my eyes out.

I’m not one of those chicks that have cute little tears and make those quiet little noises. No, I cry so rarely that when I do it’s like my body is making up for lost time. Basically, I ugly cry—hiccupping sobs, red eyes, red face, complete with snot kind of ugly. Some first impression I’m making with this man who means so much to my brother. I try several times to pull away from him so I can go cry in private, but each time I pull away he pulls me closer and holds me tighter. Finally, I give in and let go of it all, while holding onto the man like he’s the last life preserver on a tumultuous sea.

At some point in my sob-fest Hutch moves us over to the couch and pulls me onto his lap, holding me close. His hands rub soothingly over my back while he murmurs words of encouragement. After one final shuddering breath, I pull back enough to look up at him, fully aware I’m tearstained and snot nosed. I offer a watery smile, hoping that maybe I don’t look as horrifying as I feel. “Thanks for that… I... um…” I struggle with what I want to say. What do you say to a man who just showed you more affection within the first ten minutes of meeting him, than the man you were supposed to marry? I don’t know either.

“Thanks,” I finally say. Lamely, I might add.

He brushes a chunk of my tangled, wet hair out of my eyes. “We all have to break sometimes, Blake. I’m just glad that you weren’t alone when it happened.”

His words are so kind that I nearly fall apart again. Instead, I pull up my big girl panties and choke it back. “Thanks.” I smile again. “Honestly, I came here for solitude, but I’m pretty glad you ruined my plans.”

Hutch chuckles, then taps my hip indicating I should stand up. “Let’s get you cleaned up and get you something to eat. Would you like some coffee?”

I scrunch my nose in disgust and stick my tongue out. “No coffee, but I could definitely go for getting cleaned up. Even I’m kind of disgusted with me right now,” I joke, holding out my arms and looking down at my disheveled state.

His eyes follow mine and I swear I see flash of desire in his eyes, but he quickly shutters his expression so I can’t be sure. He nods down the hall towards the bedrooms and bathrooms. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Okay.”

Shutting myself in the bathroom, I finally catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Let’s just say that the Swamp Thing ain’t got nothing on me baby.

Holy fuck.

My hair is in horrific clumps. My eyes are bloodshot from crying and the eyeliner that I had painstakingly applied around my lashes is smeared so badly it could be confused for the eye black that athletes wear. My cheeks are still pink from crying and I have a mud trail from the apple of my left cheek all the way down my neck. My dress is dripping wet and caked with mud from my falls on the porch. I can honestly say that I have never, ever looked this rough and that is saying a lot considering some of the shit I’ve gotten myself into before.

The old pipes creak and moan as I turn on the taps before water gurgles out of the faucet and into the tub. This was always one of my favorite parts of coming here. I may have been a tomboy growing up, but I loved baths. Granddaddy always spoiled me with getting bubbles and those fizzing bath balls. With there being eight of us at home we didn’t get the luxury of baths. We had timed showers so that we all got clean without running out of hot water. So, whenever I was here, it was a treat to take a bath and play in the water as long as I wanted.

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