“Living life also means change. I’m not the same person I’ve always been, and I don’t think I can completely go back to who I used to be. I don’t know if I want to. I have a lot to figure out, and I think being here will help me do that. That’s all I can promise right now. I hope that doesn’t disappoint you.”
Darby Anne smiled and shook her head. “No, sweetheart. You couldn’t disappoint me. You’re brave and strong, and when you come out on the other side of what you’re going through, you’ll realize the experience has made you braver and stronger. You know I’m right.”
Bailee pushed her plate away, stood, and crossed the room to hug and kiss Darby Anne. “You always are. That’s why I love you.”
Darby Anne returned the embrace. “I love you, too.”
∞∞∞
Easton jerked awake, his body sitting upright, his hand instinctively reaching for a weapon that wasn’t at his hip. He blinked the last remnants of sleep from his foggy mind as he tried to figure out what disturbed his slumber.
A banging noise sounded outside his window, making him scowl. His body felt heavy with fatigue that three hours of sleep had not dispelled, but his heart raced, ensuring he wouldn’t fall back asleep anytime soon.
Falling asleep in the first place had been difficult enough. Too wired after his chance meeting with Bailee, he’d showered and then settled on his couch to unwind with a beer. He watched some comedy show on his big screen television for a while before deciding to read instead.
Sleep must have claimed him while he had his nose in a book. It wouldn’t have been the first time, and he found the evidence to support his suspicions when his foot bumped against the discarded book as he moved to stand.
As the family techie, Luke made fun of him for reading physical books when e-readers were more practical. Easton owned one, but the feel of a book in his hands, the sound of the pages turning, the scent of the print on the paper…well, there was nothing like it to him.
Becoming lost in a story, transporting himself to an imaginary place along with the characters, had been his saving grace growing up. When his chaotic life overwhelmed him, he could temporarily forget about it while he read.
He moved to the great room window to gaze out at his usually quiet neighborhood. He wasn’t sure of the time, but bright sunshine and lack of vehicles in nearby driveways told him the hour wasn’t too early if his neighbors were already out and about. Parents would be at work, children at school, and the retired at their daily pursuits. Since he was a light sleeper and a night owl, he appreciated the quiet mornings.
The sight out of his window both surprised him and satisfied his curiosity about what woke him. A slow smile curved his lips, and he leaned against the wall to enjoy the view.
Bailee stood in the front yard, wearing cutoff denim shorts and a plain T-shirt. She traded a hammer for a paintbrush and went to work on the porch banister, coating it with fresh paint. Easton enjoyed watching her forearm flex with the up and down motion. When she stretched to reach a higher part of the banister, her shorts rode up, revealing shapely legs.
Most of her dark hair was secured in a ponytail with the shorter hairs that weren’t long enough to fit in the hairband brushing against her neck. The style emphasized her pronounced cheekbones and square jaw. His gaze traveled to her round ass and flared hips showcased by her cutoffs. His cock stirred at the sight, and he debated his next move.
He had errands he needed to run, and he should probably sneak in a catnap before his shift at the bar. He could usually function with minimal sleep, but being Friday night, the customers would be out in full force ready to start their weekend. He needed to be at his best, but then there was a beautiful woman working right next door whom he was anxious to get to know better.
He could almost hear his brothers’ voices in his head, telling him not to shit where he slept. Bailee was Darby Anne’s granddaughter. Darby Anne was his neighbor. Hell, she was the first friend he had when he moved into the neighborhood.
Oddly, though he had little in common with the residents in the subdivision, they’d all become friends in some form orfashion. He liked them, respected them. Getting involved with the relative of one of them was asking for things to get messy.
Even as his brain issued the warning, his legs were moving through his kitchen. He snagged two bottles of ice-cold water from his fridge. Then he sauntered out the front door and crossed the expanse of yard separating his house from his neighbor’s.
Roxy noticed him first. The beast of a dog was asleep on the porch swing, but her head popped up at his approach. Bailee hadn’t noticed him. He heard faint sounds of music and realized the song blaring through her earbuds prevented her from hearing his approach. He moved into her line of vision just as she was completing a downward stroke with the paintbrush. He held out one of the waters and flashed his most congenial smile while he waited for her to accept it.
Bailee held the brush away from her with one hand while removing an earbud with the other. Her expression was priceless, a mixture of surprise and suspicion. He caught her off guard, and he liked it. Oh, yeah, getting to know Bailee was going to be fun.
“What are you doing?” Her question was abrupt, a crease appearing in the space above her nose between her dark, perfectly arched eyebrows.
“I saw you out here working and wanted to offer a good morning with some water. The Alabama humidity is tough this time of year, so it’s better to stay hydrated before the temperature gets too high.”
She motioned her hand toward an insulated bottle on the porch. “I have water, and I know what the summers around hereare like. I grew up visiting Gran and Pops every summer. I may not live here, but I’m not a stranger to Fire Creek.”
Ouch.Easton backed up a bit, his smile losing some of its brightness. “I meant no offense. I swear. It’s just around here, if we see a neighbor working on something and we have the time, we offer help, whether it’s bringing them water or picking up a paintbrush.”
Bailee’s sigh was deep, as if it rose from her bone marrow to escape her full, pouty lips. She gently dropped her paintbrush onto a tray, removed her second earbud, and dropped the devices in the pocket of her shorts.
“It’s Easton, right?” Her hands landed on her rounded hips as she waited for his answer.
She knew his name, so he guessed her question was more to create a distance between them than to confirm she remembered correctly. Easton steeled himself for what was coming.
Her tone made him think of his early days of living with English. He’d been a prankster who loved pushing limits just to see how long it took to push people away. In his experience, they never stayed, and he’d rather the reason be his shenanigans than the fact they didn’t want him around.
English often called him out on his bullshit back then. The older man never left or sent him packing, and neither had his brothers. But a small part of Easton would never stop expecting people to leave him behind.
