Page 4 of Treacherous

The worst I'd seen in Ireland was a daddy-long-legs and a bit of rain. I didn't do Fahrenheit, I was a Celsius girl, and anything over sixteen degrees was too much for me.

Considering the abuse I'd endured since my arrival on Coloradan soil, I was more than a little disgruntled with Max and the fact that he hadn't taken my opinion into account when making a decision that I don't know...oh… kind of affected my life as well as his.

We'd always been more like roommates than uncle and niece, and up until three and half months ago our living arrangement had been unfolding beautifully. That was until the night Max sat me down todiscussthe position he'd been offered as head of the E.R in St. Luke's Hospital, back in his and mom's hometown.

It hadn't been as much of a discussion as it had been a statement. It was happening, we were moving to America, and that was that.

The conversation, and our relationship, pretty much went downhill the second the words'you have to come with me, Teagan. I need to take the position. You don't have a choice'came out of his mouth.

After a tedious and lengthy heated debate, Max had used his get out of jail card, the'I uprooted my whole life for you when you needed me and it's only fair to return to favor'guilt trip ensured to make me succumb to almost any demand.

I'd given in with only two prerequisites; someplace quiet to live so I could concentrate on my final year of school, and the absolute guarantee that I could return to Ireland for University next year.

Staying true to his word, Uncle Max leased us this gorgeous two-story situated in the suburbs and surrounded by a well-tended garden, and with a view of the Rocky Mountains that was, in my humble opinion, to die for.

At first the neighborhood had seemed quiet compared to what I had envisioned, and I hadthought– in my vast naivety – that I would get along with the other neighbors, or at the very least blend in.

Well, today was day ninety-nine of operation-blend-in-with-the-locals and the shit had officially hit the fan…

It was only five in the evening and I'd already been subjected to no less than three verbal attacks from Ellie, a record breaking one-minute long evil glare from her fat father, and of course my daily treat of having our trash tipped out all over our driveway.

Of course the nasty pranks and attacks from the girl next-door neighbor didn't bother Uncle Max since he wasalwaysat the hospital – and I was the one who cleaned everything up – but I wished he would spend more time at home with me. I was lonely and it was really shit having to face this crap on my own every day – especially now the stakes had been raised.

The fact that I'd managed to piss Ellie off by simply breathing seemed inconsequential, heck the Carter brothers living across the street who were so loud at night I could hear them from my bedroom –all the way across the street– were a litter of fuzzy little kittens in comparison to my latest problem…

Noah Messina, Ellie's step-brother, had decided to join her torment-the-new-girl-until-she-cracks mission.

There was both a plus and negative side to this latest development.

On the plus side, at least I'd actually done something to deserve Noah's wrath.

There had been a fight in their driveway last weekend – between Noah and some other tattooed douchebag – that had progressed into our yard, resulting in the windshield of my car being smashed when Noah pummeled his opponent through it.

Thinking back now I had to admit that I sort of overreacted when I stalked outside in nothing but a Coldplay t-shirt and a black thong and tossed an entire can of white gloss paint over the hood of Noah's black Lexus in retaliation. I guess it had felt damn good to fight back instead of letting them walk all over me…

On the negative side, Noah hadn't given me any trouble before that night. He had barely inclined his beautiful head in my direction – with the exception of that one evening back when I first moved in where Noah and I had this weird staring moment – but destroying his car with paint was like waving a red rag in front of a bull.

He had lost it.

Right there in my driveway, with his t-shirt ripped from his body and blood dripping from his eyebrow, Noah Messina had thrown the biggest man-tantrum I'd ever seen before declaring war on me.

Of course, in true Teagan fashion, I'd goaded him to within an inch of my life.

Right there in my driveway, in my underwear, in front of all the neighbors, I'd gone head to head with the tattooed muscle-head next-door and it had been one of the most terrifyingly exciting moments of my life.

He called me a stupid bitch and I had responded by bitch-slapping his face and calling him a horse's ass.

Noah had then backed me up against the door of my car – and had even gone as far as pressing his forehead against mine – using his powerful body to cage me in, and I had done absolutely nothing to diffuse the situation.

I'd pressed against him, both our chests heaving, and dared him to go further, showing nothing but defiance even though I knew he could squish me in two if he felt inclined.

He had been truly livid, his dark eyes full of dangerous heat, as he stared down at me in obvious frustration.

But as mad as he'd been, I still doubted Noah would've physically hurt me, but I never got to find out because Mr. Carter, the unbelievably hot D.I.L.F from across the street, had raced over and separated us.

Some idiot from the circle of boys who'd been watching the earlier fight misconstrued Mr. Carter's intervention as an attack on Noah and everything had pretty much gone to shit after that and a street fight of epic proportions broke out.

After head-butting the douchebag who'd tried to attack him, Mr. Carter had then grabbed Noah by the back of his neck and dragged him away from me, before picking me up and carrying me back to his house – yes, I used the wordcarried.

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