She promptly shakes her head. “There’s no way I’m leaving you out here to deal with those three.” She blasts a glare at the guys.
They grin in response.
“I’m not going to deal with them.” Lie. I’m totally going to fight back, because I have a feeling they might see it as a weakness if I don’t. And I can sense these guys thrive off weakness. “I just need to get the car put back together so we can go get the utilities turned on, track down the landlord, and go look for Dad.”
She wiggles her arm free from my grip. “Then, why do we have to go inside?”
I shrug. “Because I can’t concentrate with you out here.”
She crosses her arms, her brow rising in challenge. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I internally sigh, racking my brain for a better way to get rid of her. “Actually, you know what? Instead of going into the house, can you walk to the gas station a few blocks down and buy a can of tire inflator to fix the tires?”
Yeah, there’s no way a can of tire inflator is going to fix my completely flat tires, but Londyn is clueless when it comes to cars, so she’ll more than likely buy into my bullshit. Then, once she’s gone, I can figure out how to handle this situation. Rationally, hopefully, but more than likely doubtful.
No, messing with my car was their way of declaring neighborly war on my ass and trying to show me who rules around here. But they can go fuck themselves if they think I’m going to back down.
“Fine,” Londyn finally agrees. “But I’m leaving Bailey here.”
My lips part in a protest, but she walks away.
“That’s not up for argument.”
“Yes, Mom,” I call out, shaking my head.
When did she become so bossy? And toward me? I can’t even recall the last time I was bossed around.
Once Payton and her start down the road, I turn to Bailey.
She lifts a brow. “So, what’re you going to do?”
“I’m not sure yet.” I give a sidelong glance at the three guys who sat down in some fold-up chairs that are by the fence.
The oldest of the three kicks his boots up on top of the fence and leans back in the chair with his arms tucked behind his head, his eyes on me, a smirk playing at his lips. The black-haired one doesn’t appear quite as amused as he props his foot up on his knee and pops open a can of beer.
“Don’t mind us. We’re just here to watch the show,” The oldest one calls out, grinning.
“Please continue, sweetheart.” Blaise grins. “We’re getting bored.”
“Sweetheart?” The oldest cocks his head to the side, surveying me. “She doesn’t seem like the sweetheart type.”
“Yeah, but she’s not a baby sort of girl either.” Blaise is all smirks and wickedness, yet underneath the amusement he seems a bit irritated. Why, I haven’t got a damn clue nor a fucking care.
“Still, you can’t call her sweetheart,” the other replies musingly. “It’s unfitting.”
Blaise’s smile is all wickedness. “Then, what do you suggest we call her?”
The older one rubs his jawline. “How about princess?”
Blaise shakes his head. “Nah, that doesn’t seem to fit her either.”
“What’s her name?” the one who’s barely spoken asks Blaise.
“I have no idea.” Blaise looks at me expectantly.
I flip him the middle finger. “Go fuck yourself.”
Blaise chuckles. “We really need to start working on your nicknames for me, sweetheart.” He slants forward, resting his hands on his knees. “I get it. You’re shy and probably a little flustered. That’s completely understandable.” He winks. “We have that effect on people.”
When I give him a blank stare, his smile enlarges.
“All right, since I can tell you’re still a little reluctant, I’ll go first.” He presses his hand to his chest. “I’m Blaise. And this is Jaxon, my brother.” He gestures at the black-haired one with the crazy blue eyes.
Jaxon does nothing but keep his gaze fixed on me as he takes a swig of his beer.
“He’s a man of few words,” Blaise explains, then motions at the oldest of the three, the one with all the tattoos and piercings. “And this is Alex, my other brother.
“But since I’m the mechanic and the one you’re going to have to convince to fix your car, you should probably come up with a better name to call me, like maybe sexy beast or master—something along those lines.” Alex smirks amusedly. “Although, I think we already established she probably isn’t enticing enough for me.”
I’ve grown quiet, stunned into shock. Sure, I’ve had to deal with jerks before, but these three are beyond the realms of normal asshatery. In fact, they’re so asshole-ish, I think they need their very own dickhead term. Like dick-prick-dumb-fuckers-stupid-fucking-asshole-shits!
I’m about to declare their nickname to the entire neighborhood when Bailey steps up beside me.
“We need to shut them the hell up,” she growls with her hands balled into fists.
She’s ready for a fight, and so am I, but not a physical one. No, as tough as I can be, I’m not stupid enough to believe Bailey and I could take these guys on. Plus, I don’t want her fighting.
I crack my knuckles against the sides of my legs. “Go get my toolbox. It’s in the living room beside my box of clothes.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
Grimacing, she strides off toward the front door of the house. Neither of the guys even glance at her, too fixated on trying to make me squirm under their mocking gazes.
Lifting my chin, I square my shoulders and march to the back of the trunk. After securing my hair in a messy bun, I pull out a folded-up blanket, spread it out on the ground, and begin taking the pieces of the carburetor out.
“What’s she doing?” Alex asks, his tone laced with confusion, yet his eyes sparkle with mischief.
“I’m not sure.” Blaise eyes me over with a crinkle at his brows. “But she’s definitely trying to do something.”
“I think she’s going to try to put it back together,” Jaxon remarks, then takes another swig of beer.
While I’m betting he’s about my age and is drinking illegally, I’m not that surprised he’s doing it out in the open. Sadly, most everyone around here more than likely doesn’t care. It’s been the same way in a lot of neighborhoods we’ve lived in.
Once I get the pieces all set up, Bailey has returned with my tools. She doesn’t question what I’m doing, only grins as she puts two and two together.
Kneeling on the blanket, I pull out a set of screwdrivers, wrenches, and pliers. Then I get to work, moving as quickly as I can, but not so fast that I mess up. As the sun starts to rise higher over the hills, sweat begins to bead on my skin. Well, at least I try to blame the sweating on the heat. Really, it may have something to do with having an audience. A very freakin’ annoying audience.
They watch me the entire time I work, whispering amongst each other and occasionally talking loud enough for me to hear their insults. Doesn’t really matter. In the end, I have the final say after I get the carburetor put back together, attach it to the engine, and then reinstall the battery. Then, just for an added emphasis on how badass I am, I slide into the driver’s seat and twist the key. The engine grumbles to life, just like I knew it would—I never second-guess my work when it comes to cars.
Wiping my greasy hands onto the side of my shorts, I turn the car off, hop out, and Bailey and I fist bump. Then I turn to the guys, cross my arms, and smile sweetly.
“Thanks for taking that apart for me. I’ve been meaning to see if I can break my record time of putting it back together.”
Blaise and Alex trade an indecipherable look, then Blaise faces me, his lips parting.
I hold up my hand. “Nope, sweetheart, you had your turn, and now it’s mine.” I step toward him. “I don’t know what sort of people you’re used to dealing with, but I’m not going to let you walk all over me or my sisters, so back the
hell off, or you’re going to regret it.”
Blaise rises from his chair. “Is that a threat?”
“Yep. And here’s another.” I step closer to the fence, so close I can see the muscles in Blaise’s jaw pulsating. “Stay away from me and my sisters, or you’re going to regret it.”
He folds his lean arms across his chest and slips his tongue out to wet his lips, the glint of a metal piercing reflecting in the sunlight. Then he opens and flexes his hands while grinding his teeth, his dark gaze boring into me.
“Don’t,” Jaxon warns his brother. “We’re already on thin ice as it is.”
“I’m not going to do anything,” Blaise says while staring at me.
Holding my gaze for a slamming heartbeat longer, he tears his eyes off me and strides toward the house. “See you around, Hadley,” he calls over his shoulder.
What the hell? How did he learn my name? And why did he pretend earlier that he didn’t know it? Or maybe he heard one of my sisters call me it.
Great. I don’t want him knowing my name. I don’t want him knowing anything about me or my sisters.
Alex jogs after Blaise, catching up with him on the front porch and with a heavy sigh, Jaxon pushes to his feet and walks away.
Once they’re gone, I twist around to face Bailey. “Well, that was intense.”
“Super intense.” She looks over at their house then back at me. “Dude, I have a bad feeling about those guys. Like they’re going to try to get you back for threatening them.”
I know that, and I’m worried that I just might have poked a sleeping badger. Not wanting to freak her out, though, I put on my fake smile.
“Everything’s going to be fine. I’m sure they’re all bark and no bite.”
She gives a pressing glance at my car. “Yeah, that’s why you have four flat tires and just spent the last half hour putting your car back together.”
I dismiss her with a wave of my hand. “It’s just a car. No biggie.”
No biggie, Hadley. It’s our only source of transportation at the moment.
But I keep my calm face on, faking it like I often do.
“No biggie?” Bailey shakes her head incredulously. “We currently have no place to live, no power, no food, and now we don’t have a vehicle. We’re seriously fucked up the ass.”
“Hey, watch your mouth,” I scold, but she only rolls her eyes. Sighing, I circle my car to examine the tires again. “I wonder if they slashed them or just let the air out.”
“Did you see the evil smirks on their face?” Bailey questions. “They definitely slashed them.”
A sigh slips from my lips. “Yeah, I know.”
Bailey kicks one of the tires with the tip of her boot. “How are we going to get the tires fixed? We can’t afford it.”
“Yeah, I know.” Those seem to be my go-to words at the moment.
Usually, I’m better at hiding my worry from my sisters, but those guys have me frazzled.
I need to get my shit together.
“Here, give me your phone.” I stick out my hand.
“Why?”
“Because I’m going to call and get a quote on some tires, then I’m going to call Dad.”
“He’s not going to pick up.” She hands me her phone. “Londyn already tried, like, five times this morning.”
“Well, I’m going to try again.” I open her internet app and search local tire stores.
“Why? It’s pointless.” She plops down on the blanket I used while putting together the carburetor. “Even if he does answer his phone, he’s not going to help us.”
“He can give me the name of the landlord and their phone number.”
“And then what? Because my bet is he hasn’t even paid the deposit yet.” She stretches her legs out. “Honestly, at this point, I’m starting to wonder if perhaps he ever even rented this place. I think he told us some bullshit story so he could ditch us out in the middle of some redneck town.”
That thought has crossed my mind. That maybe our dad really has been running away from something for the last eight years and he finally decided to do it solo.
“I’m sure that’s not what—”
A car suddenly zooms down the road and peels into the driveway next door, kicking up a cloud of dirt.
“Holy hell, it’s your long-lost twin.” Bailey coughs, fanning her hand in front of her face as dust funnels around us.
I eyeball the car; a 1969 GTO Judge, black with red racing stripes. “Pretty.”
Bailey points at me. “Don’t get mesmerized yet. It could be one of their cars.” She glares at the house the car is parked in front of. I assume she is referring to Blaise, Alex, and Jaxon.
“No way. They just went inside.” I openly check the car out, my chest filling with envy.
What I wouldn’t give to have my car looking that fantastic. And with functional tires.
Bailey and I watch as the driver’s door swings open and a guy hops out. Tall, with short, dark brown hair, he looks around my age, and almost as attractive as Blaise, Alex, and Jaxon. He’s dressed in similar attire as they were—all black with chains dangling off his belt loops, thick boots covering his feet, and leather bands decorating his wrists.
“Yummy,” Bailey mutters, biting her bottom lip.
“No yummy,” I warn. “I’m pretty sure he’s related to dipshit one, two, and three.”
“How can you tell?”
“Because he looks like them.”
She pouts. “Well, that sucks.”
“Why? Were you planning on going over there and hitting on him?” I tease as I stare at my car.
“No.” Her lie shines through her tone and how she turns her head away to hide her smile.
“You’re such a little liar.” Flashing her a teasing smile, I move to dial a nearby tire company’s phone number. “Besides, I thought hitting on guys was more Payton’s thing—”
“Is that your ride?” a deep, male voice sails from over my shoulder.
I trade a wary look with Bailey before turning around. Sure enough, Mr. Yummy himself is standing beside the fence with a soft smile dancing at his lips. Although, unlike Blaise, Alex, and Jaxon, his smile doesn’t look malicious.
“Yeah,” I reply cautiously.
“It’s not too bad. Would look even better, though, if it was fixed up.” He dazzles me with a grin, but his brow crinkles as his gaze sweeps over me.
What? Has he never seen a girl in greasy pajamas before?
“It looks fine as is,” I reply flatly.
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he quickly adds. “I was just trying to give you a compliment.”
“Well, thanks, I guess.” I begin to turn back around, but apparently he’s not done with the conversation yet.
“I’d like to see how it races sometime,” he continues. “There’s a place down by the river where some people get together. You should come down there sometime. I think there might be a race going on this weekend.”
Bailey leans in toward me and whispers, “I’m pretty sure the hottest guy I’ve ever seen is hitting on you right now.”
“He’s not hitting on me. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’s up to something.” Facing him again, I recline against my car. “Thanks for the invite, but until I can come up with the cash to get four new tires, I won’t be taking this out racing anytime soon.”
His brows knit. “How did all of your tires go flat?”
I point at the house just behind him. “Dipshit one, dipshit two, and dipshit three that live there decided to welcome me to the neighborhood.”
His jaw tightens. “You’ve met my brothers?”
So, he is related to the asshats next door. Dammit, I was hoping he wasn’t.
“Yep.” I move to leave. “It was nice meeting you …” I realize I don’t know his name.
Gripping the top of the fence, he easily hoists himself over. Then he walks toward me with his hand outstretched. “I’m Rhyland, and I really want to apologize for whatever my brother
s did or said to you.”
Still wary of him, I don’t shake his hand. “It’s fine. You didn’t do it.”
“Yeah, but there my brothers.” He sighs loudly. “And we’re supposed to watch out for each other. You know, make sure we don’t do anything stupid. But I’ve been distracted lately and haven’t been doing my part very well.”
I feel a bit of empathy for him. “I get that. I really do. I have three younger sisters and my dad …” I clear my throat. The last thing I need is to tell a stranger about my dad. “Anyway, it’s sort of my job to keep an eye on them and make sure they stay out of trouble. I fail, though, a lot.”
He watches me with interest. “I doubt that. I’m sure you’re just being too hard on yourself.”
“Tell that to the countless times I’ve had to pick one of them up from jail or bail them out of a bad situation.” I shake my head. I can’t be telling him this sort of stuff. Not with Blaise being his brother. “But anyway, it was nice meeting you …” Shit, I forgot his name.
Fuck, I need to start getting better sleep.
A smile graces his lips. “Rhyland.”
“Right, Rhyland.” I roll my eyes at myself. “It was really nice meeting you, Rhyland.
“It was really nice meeting you, too.” He catches my gaze. “I’d really like to know your name, though.”
I almost don’t want to give it to him, but figure he’ll probably learn it soon anyway. “It’s Hadley.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Hadley.” He smiles while offering me his hand to shake again.
Instead of shaking it, I tap my knuckles against his, because hand shaking is weird.
He chuckles but then frowns when his gaze lands on my car. “Let me buy some new tires for you. It’s the least I can do to make up for what my brothers did.”
What I wouldn’t give to be able to accept that offer, but my pride gets the best of me.
“No, thank you. I can take care of it.”
“Please,” he practically begs. “I really want to.”
I’m about to decline again when my dad’s truck pulls into the driveway.
“Oh, look, he finally found his way here,” Bailey mumbles with irritation.
I turn toward Rhyland, preparing to say goodbye so I can take care of the endless list of stuff I need to do, but he’s already over the fence and heading toward his house.