Page 9 of Tangled Desires

“Ugh, what’s the point?” I groan groggily as my phone goes off again. Surely, it hasn’t been enough time yet. The sleepiness finally fades, and I realize it’s my phone ringing. I never turned on my alarm. I haven’t since the day Dad died. There wasn’t a point; my schedule hasn’t been the same ever since. I’d like to fix that, but until I get my whole housing situation under control, I’m looking at this as a turning of a leaf and letting things roll off my back for the time being.

My hand slides from under the covers, the cold air sneaking its way in and causing me to shiver. I hurriedly snatch my phone before sinking deeper into the abyss of warmth. My eyes are still blurry and out of focus after the little sleep I got. I assumed after leaving the Steeles, I’d be exhausted. The sun, the heat, working in the yard, and a full stomach would usually have me promptly passing out. Sadly, it didn’t. The hot shower, washing my hair and shaving my legs, didn’t tire me out, either. I didn’t understand it because every muscle I had in my body was protesting any movement. Yet, I couldn’t get my mind to shut down. I wrapped myself in a towel, tossed my hair in one as well to help the long locks absorb the water, and pulled out my journal.

A few hours later, after more scribbling than I’ve ever done before, with tears rolling down my cheeks, exhaustion finally took over. I unwrapped my hair and body from the thick cotton, tossed it at the foot of the bed, and got under the covers. Sleep took over, but it feels like I’ve been put through the wringer between the physical and emotional turmoil.

“Hello.” I don’t recognize the number, and when I squint at the time, I realize it’s later than I first expected. Who knew I could snooze until nearly ten o’clock in the morning? Sleeping the day away is the last thing I want, especially if I want to work on the backyard today.

“Hello, is this Lyric Skye?” the voice on the other end of the line answers. I sit up straight, holding the phone with one hand and pushing my hair away from my face with the other. I’m very much awake now. The male voice is smoky,deep, and slightly raspy. The cool brooding intensity gets to me, and he’s only said a few words.

“This is she.” I look down at my naked body. One could blame the cool air for my flesh to raise with goose bumps and my nipples to harden into tight tips, except I know the truth. The stranger on the other end of the line has me all fired up.

“I’m with Jagged Edge Construction. Joss gave me your name and phone number. We’ve had a cancelation in our schedule, and I can fit your estimate in this morning, if you have time.” Yep, most definitely the voice. My thighs clench together, and I’m going to have to take a cold shower before I even remotely think about meeting the stranger.

“Uh, um. Yes, that will work. What time were you thinking?” I survey my room. My luggage lies open in the corner, clothes pouring out, some on the chair, some on the floor, and then there’s a sundress I had the forethought to hang up. So much for wearing another set of grimy clothes to work in the yard today.

“I’m free in about thirty minutes.” A couple of quick calculations in my head tell me I’m going to need at least ten minutes to do my bathroom business, minus touching my hair, five minutes to get dressed, maybe another five to grab a cup of coffee and muffin downstairs, leaving me with ten minutes to spare to meet him. I can totally do that. I’ll just have to get my ass out of bed, a problem considering I’m still sitting in said bed.

“That works,” I reply. My own voice sounds different from normal. Jesus, I can’t be lusting over a man simply because of his voice, can I? I shake my head, making amental note to grab another bag from my car that has a certain toy. Maybe I just need a good orgasm. Yeah, that’s what I need.

“Sounds good. See you then.” He hangs up the phone. I throw my body back on the mattress, dropping my phone and stretching. My arms lift over my head, my toes go into a point, and some of the tension I’ve been feeling slowly floats away. Too bad I can’t stay like this for much longer. I’ve got to get ready, and fast.

I jump out of bed, going wobbly at the sudden and swift movements, but that doesn’t stop me. I pull the covers up and slightly straighten them; I will do better next time when I’m not in a rush. I move through the room, closing my notebook and moving it to be closer with my purse in order to take it with me. It’s a good thing it’s big, too, because carrying around two notebooks isn’t for the faint of heart. I go about tossing my clean clothes back in my suitcase and putting the dirty ones off to the side and then move into the bathroom. The last thing I want is for housekeeping to come in my room, it being way more untidy than necessary, and them think I’m a slob. That’s the last thing I want spread around town. Here’s Lyric Skye, overstaying her welcome at the bed and breakfast, and she’s a beyond messy to boot.

“Shit,” I mutter. Time is dwindling down, and I still have a lot to do. I head into the bathroom, still naked from last night, which I guess makes it easier, because when my eyes land on the mirror, my hair is a hot fucking mess.

“You’ll never learn.” I grab my toothbrush, put some toothpaste on it, and turn the water on. There’s more than a slight chance I’m going to be late, but it’s either that, or I’mgoing to have to bypass coffee and a snack. I don’t even wait for the water to heat up. I’m on a mission, one that won’t make me late. I shove the toothbrush in my mouth and scrub my teeth while tipping my head backwards. It’s going to take a miracle to tame the wild mess of my hair. Letting it dry naturally in the Florida humidity is asking me to look like I put my fingers in an electrical socket, but what other choice do I have?

I go about my business, working at lightning speed, and step out of the shower sopping wet. A quick look around, and I spot a clean towel. The fabric abrades my skin with how fast I’m going, but time is of the essence. I flip my head over once I’m done and wrap the towel around my head. I’ll get dressed, and by then, my hair will have dried enough to run a brush through it, put it up in some kind of twist, and pop a clip in it.

“What now?” I hear my phone ringing. Part of me is tempted to grab it. Except I can’t make the estimator wait. If he leaves before I get there, who knows how long it’ll take to get him back out there or to find another one? I gulp at the last option, fear taking hold as I rip my sundress off the hanger and shove my head through it. All I need to find is a pair of panties to slip on. The type of dresses I love have built-in shelf bras, and considering life didn’t go according to plan when it comes to children, my breasts still sit high and tight. I snatch a pair of panties, moving from one foot to the other, taking half the fabric of my dress with me as I pull them up. Now it’s time for hair. I move my head to the side, allowing the towel to fall off my head and land in a heap on the floor. I’ll pick it up on my way out. Hair first, makeup last.Oh, who am I kidding? There’s no time for mascara, let alone blush; a bare face will have to do.

My mother, God bless her soul, would tell me to at least put on moisturizer, except I haven’t looked at the clock, and I’m scared to. Instead, I brush my hair, yanking and pulling, ripping more out with how I’m handling it, and promise myself when I get back today, to do a better job.

“Yep, this is as good as it’s going to get,” I tell myself in the mirror. In a perfect world, I’d have taken a lot more time. You know, considering I felt more than I have from the stranger’s voice than I have in years. “Shut up.” I bend to pick up the towel, pulling my dress down while doing so, and hang it on the hook. I flip the switch, walk back into my bedroom, grab my purse, deposit my things in it, shove my feet in a cute pair of woven leather sandals, and move my ass.

I look down at my watch briefly as I shut the door to my room behind me, breathing a sigh of relief that I’ve somehow managed my time enough to grab a to-go cup of coffee and muffin. I hustle down the stairs staying laser-focused, my eyes on the prize in the form of carbs and caffeine.

“Good morning, Miss Skye,” the innkeeper greets me as I land on the bottom floor.

“Good morning. I’m going to grab something quickly and head out the door.” I point to the room where they keep snacks and drinks during the day but breakfast in the morning. “My appointment suddenly moved up and, well, I slept later than normal.” I feel like I need to explain myself. He nods in understanding; a sense of relief rushes through me.I’ve lived in enough small towns with the way we traveled around for Dad’s jobs that I know people talk, the perks of being a military brat. When Dad became an even bigger deal, I’d really had to home in on being polite, never wanting my behavior to fall back on my father’s shoulders. My parents never made me feel like I had to, except I watched other children when we had to attend certain events, and I learned from them.

I’m able to grab a blueberry muffin and stuff it in my purse, and a few steps later, I have my coffee cup secured with a lid. The doctored version I’d have in the luxury of my home is different when there’s only half and half and sugar or an artificial sweetener available. I opted for the cream and sugar, making do with what’s available. I’ll find the time to pick up a few things at the grocery store later today.

“Bye, Mr. Gus.” I wave as I head for the door.

“See you soon, Miss. Skye.” Gus and his wife, Nora, have been the greatest. She’s not around this morning, but she was last night when I came in for the night. I’d wondered how they make it work, having a marriage, owning a business, and working opposite hours, yet somehow, they have. I don’t have time to do much more thinking. I’ve got a house to get to, and turning it into a home is my top priority. With that thought in mind, I unlock my car door, climb inside, and start the engine. I’ll drink my coffee and munch on my muffin along the way, though now that I’ve had time to go over the phone call, a phone call that’s absolutely harmless yet has me wondering things I haven’t let myself think about, I’m reconsidering if I should touch my coffee or food.

7

JAGGER

I’m leaning against the bed of my truck when Lyric pulls into the driveway. The quick glimpse of her face doesn’t give me enough time to really look at her. A damn shame, too, but since I’m willing to bet I woke her up with my phone call, there’s a reason she comes in hot to fucking trot. She whips the top-heavy gun-metal gray Chevy Tahoe SUV into the driveway, throws it inPark, and opens the door. Lyric drives her vehicle like she stole the damn thing. I straighten, ready to make my way toward her, when I’m greeted with one killer leg, kissed by the sun, long and lean, and when she slides out of the driver’s seat, I get even more of her body in the form of a shapely thigh.

Jesus Fuck.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry. Am I late?” She looks at her watch on her wrist and back at me. Her mouth forms into the shape of anO. It appears Lyric has now realized who’s meeting her for an estimate. I remain silent, unable to answer her question,mainly because I’m taking her in. When Lyric and her family left that day all those years ago with tears streaming down her cheeks, she was pretty then, but now that she’s an adult, the woman version of Lyric Skye is a goddamn vision. Her dark brown hair is pulled back, but when her hand moves to the back of her head to undo the clip, her long hair tumbles down. The sun catches the subtle gold and chestnut strands, making it look rich and earthy. I’m drawn to her green eyes like the grass after an afternoon thunderstorm, striking and vivid. Lyric’s high cheekbones flush a light pink, and her lips appear soft and full, reminiscent of the color of ripe berries.

I’m tempted to bite my fist when my eyes travel down the length of her body. She’s small, tinier than my six-foot-six frame by more than a foot. That doesn’t make her any less appealing, though. My cock decides to perk up at the thought of seeing her without a stitch of clothing on her curvy-as-fuck body. She takes a hesitant step away from the Tahoe. I bite at my lower lip and take a step toward the woman who had not one single fucking problem leaving me in the dust.

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