“Um… being on a mining site in a dress, I guess? But mainly I meant she probably wants to change after wearing the same clothes she’s been in for a long day of travel. After three flights, evenIcan’t wait to change. Ugh. Why does travel make you feel so grimy? Are my water and gas all locked and loaded so I can take a shower?”
“Yeah. Course. As soon as you confirmed, I set it up.”
“Good one. Thanks.” I turn to head in, then pause and press my forehead to the side of the trailer. “Is hers?”
I turn slowly back around to face Hawk’s guilt-ridden silence.
I shake my head and sigh. “That’ssuperun-cool, man. You really need to up your game. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, I got it,” he growls as he stalks back to his truck. He slams his door shut before he brings it to life and completes a hasty U-turn that kicks up too much dust. Swatting it away as I cough, I shut myself inside and groan so loudly that I feel it rising from my boots.
I head back outside to watch where Hawk drops Lana’s bags. I need to find out which trailer she’s going to be staying in, so I can pay her a visit and explain myself. Soon. It’s eating me up inside to have her thinking less of me than I want her to.
Hawk parks next door to Martha’s and walks around the side of the green guest trailer to check the utility connections, then he carts Lana’s bags inside like he fucking should. I don’t even realize I’m growling until Hawk’s dog, Skit, barks at me from the road.
The friendliest dog in the world came to welcome me back, but had to tell me off instead for rumbling at her master like a self-righteous dickhead because I can’t stop feeling possessive as fuck over the man’s daughter.
I am so fucking screwed.
14
LANA
“Thank you for escorting me home after a wonderful evening,” I hiccup at Martha as she steadies me on the makeshift porch of the trailer that sits next to hers.
“You’re welcome, Baker’s Delight.”
“Ew. Don’t call me that. You make it sound like I’m an edible treat for my stepdad.”
We both collapse in a heap of giggles, but we eventually get inside.
“Sorry that I didn’t get around to stocking up your place, but I did air it out and bring some fresh bedding over. If you need anything, just holler at me across the path or help yourself to my shit. My door’s always open.”
“Thank you.Ooh— my bags. I can finally take off this pretty dress with its pretty man cooties and put on some very sensible clothing that will earn my father’s respect and love.”
Martha’s laughter dies down. “What?”
“Nothing. I said nothing. My father loves me, and I didn’t let a pretty man dress me this morning.”
“Big-dick guy was pretty?”
“So pretty,” I confirm as I turn on the shower and test the water. “Mmm.Hot.”
Martha tests the temperature herself and then flicks the water from her hand in my face. “It’s fine. Do you actually need a shower?”
“Yes, desperately. My last one was very dirty. There was a man in it,” I inform her with a grin before cupping my hand to my mouth and whispering. “He did things to me.”
She laughs so hard she snorts, and that makes us both laugh even harder. When I start stripping, she rushes forward to give me a hug before I can get completely nude.
“I’m very glad you’re here. We’re going to think of a better nickname than Buttercup or Baker’s Delight, and this’ll be the best seasonever. Have your shower, get some rest, and I’ll see you in the morning. And be careful. You’re not allowed to slip on the soap. And don’t fall asleep in there and freeze to death either. It’s fucking cold out.”
“Yes, dear,” I reply with a grin. “Despite your best efforts, I’m still quite coherent. Look, I can even read this note from Dad that says:Welcome home. Sounds like you and Martha are having fun, and I know you won’t want me to crash the party. Sorry I’m an asshat. I’ll do better. See you in the morning. Love, Dad.”
Martha snatches the paper from my hand. “Jeez, I can barely read his writing when I’m sober,” she says, moving the paper back and forth as she squints at it. “He actually wroteasshat.”
“Unusually insightful,” I agree as I shuck my dress to my ankles and step into the shower. “We’ll check him for a brain injury in the morning, but if he’s making sense like that, I don’t think we should rush it.” I look around the empty cubicle and could kick myself. “I forgot to get soap. And a fucking towel. I’m having a crisis. It’s a disorganized shower — thatneverhappens. Youdidgive me enough tequila,” I say, splashing water at her. “Can you please grab me the caddy from my blue pack? There should be a towel in there, too.”
Martha reappears with my toiletries and towel, and an odd expression on her face. “Your bags scare me.”
