Unbound (Crimson Romance) (9 page)

• • •

Late that night, while Payten dreamed peacefully without any creepy calls to interrupt her sleep, Dean woke from a nightmare. He didn’t remember it. He never could remember the nightmares that left him wide awake in the middle of the night, but he could guess what they were about pretty easily.

The sound of his own heartbeat pounded in his ears. A thin film of sweat covered his body and left him chilled. He lay perfectly still while he fought to slow his breathing from panicked gasps to a somewhat normal pace. When it finally slowed, he untangled his legs from the sheets. He got out of bed and moved slowly to the kitchen.

The nightmares always left his throat dry. Standing in the kitchen, he debated his choices. The milk in the fridge had probably spoiled. He couldn’t remember when he’d bought it. A beer was a bad idea. Alcohol always made the nightmares worse. He grabbed a cup from the cabinet near the sink and filled it with water.

One of the several therapists his father had sent him to in the years after his mother’s death had assured his father the nightmares would stop as he got older. He wasn’t buying it. He was twenty-three years old, and the nightmares still came as often as they ever had.

He didn’t tell anyone about the nightmares. Growing up, he lied to his dad about not having them whenever he asked. He hadn’t wanted to see another therapist. Staring out the small window over the sink, he prayed it wouldn’t take a therapist to make the nightmares stop.

He drank most of the water before he set the glass in the sink. Knowing sleep would be impossible, he went back to his room. The gym shorts he had gone to bed in were all he wore. He plucked a shirt out of the hamper in his closet.

Pulling the wrinkled shirt over his head, he stumbled back toward the kitchen. After unlocking the glass doors, he jerked one open. He stepped onto his back porch, not bothering to close the door.

Shit,
he thought.
It’s fuckin’ cold.

He didn’t go back inside, though. He dropped into the rocking chair on the porch. Using his bare feet, he pushed the chair into a gentle rock. Thinking about it, he wasn’t entirely sure he had ever sat in the chair before.

Aunt Becky had insisted his porch needed a rocking chair when he moved in. The woman had nearly driven him crazy about it. One day, Jack showed up in the ugly truck the guys kept for work with a rocking chair in the back. Jack told him it was to spare them all the bitching and put the damn rocker on the porch.

Dean did exactly what Jack told him to and never really thought about the chair again. There he was, though, sitting in it in the dead of winter, freezing his ass off. Even with the cold, it was still nice.

Chapter Eleven

He called the little bitch over and over. Every message he heard saying the number was no longer in service infuriated him more. What had she done? Disconnect her phone? Block his number?

What did she think she was doing? He had seen her go to the police department. Did she think they could keep her safe? That backwater department couldn’t find their own asses. They couldn’t stop him. They wouldn’t.

He had a job to do. He was part of the plan. He couldn’t fail. The plan was too important. Dean deserved to pay.

He called her again. Last night had been so satisfying. He’d seen her fear. He could almost taste it. When he called that third time, he’d seen the shadow of her moving across her room through her filmy curtain. The bathroom light had spilled through the tiny window and across her small yard. He’d fought to contain his laughter.

The recorded message in his ear killed some of that satisfaction. How dare that whore block his calls? The cell phone cracked under the pressure of his grip.

He looked down at the useless piece of shit. It wouldn’t do him any good now. He threw it to the pavement and stomped on it. Slamming his foot against the cheap plastic helped work away some of the fury.

Discipline. He’d been told over and over he needed more discipline.

With the fury mostly gone, he worked on a new method for accomplishing his part of the plan. The sudden barking of that fucking dog gave him an idea. A wonderful, wonderful idea.

Chapter Twelve

Payten looked at the pile of clothes lying in the floor of her bedroom. She looked into her almost empty closet, then back at the pile. She whimpered.

“Britt! What am I gonna wear?”

“Calm down, babe.”

“Why don’t I own any cute clothes?”

“You do.”

She turned and looked at Bridgett. “Do you see anything in that closet that is first date worthy?”

“Since most of your clothes are on the floor, not really.” When Payten whimpered again, Bridgett laughed. “Come here.” She patted the bed beside her.

Payten trudged over to the bed and threw herself down. She stared up at the ceiling. “I’m nervous.”

“I know you are. You have to remember, though, Dean has known you your whole life. What you wear or how you fix your hair won’t matter to him.”

Payten moaned. “How am I gonna fix my hair?”

“You’re not listening,” Bridgett said.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Bridgett reached over and slapped her thigh.

“Ow!” She sat up and glared at Bridgett. “What was that for?”

“You’re not listening to me.”

“You’re not helping me.”

Bridgett frowned. “I’m trying.”

“Try harder.”

“Listen, bitch,” Bridgett started, “I know for a fact that Dean wouldn’t care if you showed up in gym shorts with your hair buzzed off. Since I’m your friend, though, I’ve been sitting here for — ” She glanced at her watch. “ — Half an hour listening to you whine about what to wear. I’m hungry, and you’re giving me a headache. Pick something and get in the fucking shower.”

Payten stared at her for a moment before she started laughing. She grabbed Bridgett and hugged her. “Thanks, Britt.”

“You’re welcome. Now, for God’s sake, pick something.”

An hour later, Payten stood in front of her mirror looking herself over. She wore a dark purple, long-sleeved dress that fell to mid-thigh. Because of the weather, she’d paired the light cotton dress with black winter stockings and high-heeled black boots that stopped just below her knees. Under her dress, she wore a black lace bra with matching panties.

She had skipped her usual braid. Instead, her hair hung loose down her back. She had parted it far to the left and pinned it back out of her face. She thought she might regret leaving it down because Smitty’s was bound to be hot, but it was so cute she couldn’t resist.

The knock on the front door made her heart skip a beat. She grinned at Bridgett, who stood behind her looking in the mirror. Bridgett gave her a thumbs up.

“I’ll just wait here,” Bridgett told her. “Michael and I will be there soon. Have fun.”

“I will,” Payten promised. “Lock the door when you leave.” She closed her bedroom door on her way out.

When she opened the front door and saw Dean, the only thought in her head was he was hot. His jeans were well worn, faded to almost white. Underneath his usual beaten leather coat, he wore a navy button-up shirt. It was left unbuttoned and hanging open. A black T-shirt stretched across his broad chest. Black boots finished his outfit.

“You look amazing,” she said before she could stop herself.

“I was thinking the same thing about you.”

She felt her cheeks heat at the compliment.

• • •

Dean couldn’t resist touching her. If she hadn’t blushed, he might have been able to. Instead, he leaned down to kiss her cheek before nudging her back into the house. He pulled the door shut behind him.

Inside the foyer, he pulled her close. His hands cruised from her hips to the small of her back then up to tangle in her hair. It drove him wild when she left her hair down. He had to get his hands in it.

“I’m a little early,” he told her.

“I noticed.”

He kissed her other cheek. “I didn’t want to be late.” He gently kissed his way along her jaw line to her throat. “You’re ready, right?”

Using his tongue, he gently flicked at her throat where her heart beat wildly. He heard her breath catch.

“I’m ready,” she said. At least she tried. It came out more of a whisper.

He raised his head and looked at her. Her boots put her at eye level with him. Her eyes were such a deep blue. He didn’t mind looking into them while she gathered herself.

“I’m ready to go,” she repeated.

“All right.” He moved his hands from around her waist.

“Let me grab my purse.”

He nodded, but it wasn’t necessary. He watched as she moved away from him. The swing of her hips drew him in. The dress covered more than it left exposed, but he couldn’t help wondering what was underneath it.

Were those leggings that she wore? They looked too thin to be leggings. Could they be stockings? He bit his lower lip to hold in a groan as he imaged her in those boots, stockings, and very little else.

She disappeared into her room for only a moment. The sight of her walking back toward him did little to halt his imagination. She came to a stop in front of him. “Ready?”

“Yeah, I’m ready,” he told her, very aware of his own double meaning.

Judging by the way her gaze drifted to his jeans, she was aware of it, too. Slowly, a flush crept into her cheeks. He was sure her sexy little stroll for her purse had been for his benefit. Apparently, though, she was as innocent as he thought she was and hadn’t had a clue just how appealing she was to him.

He grinned at her, convinced she was perfect.

• • •

Payten sat at a table near the dance floor with Bridgett and Michael. Andie sat with them when she wasn’t dancing, and it was rare for Andie not to be dancing.

She checked her watch. When the guys finished their next song, they would take a break. It wasn’t that Bridgett and Michael weren’t good company. They were, but she would much rather be tipping back a beer with Dean or letting him lead her around the dance floor. Watching him play simply wasn’t enough when he was all hers for the night.

“This one is for all you lovely ladies out there tonight,” Kalvin said into his microphone.

She found herself laughing as the guys launched into “Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic.” Kalvin sang his heart out to a cute blonde lingering by the stage. Payten barely noticed him. She barely noticed any of the other guys on stage.

Dean owned all of her attention. Situated at the back of the stage, behind his drum kit, he should have been difficult to see. She’d thought of that and picked a table with a perfect view of him.

He’d left his coat and dress shirt slung over the back of her chair, claiming it was easier to play without the long sleeves constricting his movements. The black T-shirt she had admired earlier looked even better by itself. It stretched tightly over his broad chest and shoulders. The short sleeves hugged his upper arms, putting them on display. She had always known she could be a little shallow, but with his shirt clinging to him, his dark hair a little wild, and the lean muscles of his arms rippling as he played, she thought she might be very shallow.

The song ended far too soon and at the same time not soon enough. She loved listening to them, but she wanted Dean all to herself. While Kalvin thanked the bar’s patrons and applause filled the room, Dean stood and made his way toward her.

He pointed toward her beer. “Can I steal a drink?”

She nodded.

“Michael and I are going to go dance,” Bridgett said. “Are you guys coming?”

“Sure,” he answered, setting the beer back down on the table.

He held his hand out for Payten. She took hold of it and let him lead her to a spot on the dance floor. The jukebox had kicked on to fill the silence left by the band’s break. It played a soft, slow song. She went willingly when he pulled her close, savoring the press of his warm body against hers.

“You guys were really great,” she told him.

“Thanks.”

“Are you guys going to play all night?”

He shrugged. “I don’t think anybody’s decided. Are you having a good time?”

“I always love it when you guys play.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She lifted her head to look at him. “Tonight, though, I love it even more when you don’t.”

He leaned down to brush a kiss on her cheek. “Me too.”

When the first song ended, they twirled around the floor to a Blake Shelton song. To her delight, Dean was every bit as talented as Kalvin on a dance floor. They danced to several more songs before she called a time-out.

“I need a drink,” she told him. “You want anything?”

He shook his head. “Tell Smitty to put it on my tab.”

She moved to the bar. Bridgett fell in step behind her at some point. “So? How’s it going?”

Payten shook her head. “You danced two feet away from us. You have eyes. How do you think it’s going?”

“I think it’s going good,” Bridgett said, affectionately bumping shoulders with her. “You guys look great together.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you going to sleep with him?”

Payten stopped midstride. “Excuse me?”

She shrugged. “I’ve got fifty bucks on you sleeping with him before the end of the month. I’d really like to win.”

Payten shook her head. “You girls are insane. You do realize that, don’t you?”

“So are you going to?”

She bit her lip. “I’m thinking about it.”

• • •

While Payten was headed to the bar for a bottle of water, Dean looked for Kalvin. He found him nuzzled up to a blonde in a corner and tapped him on the shoulder.

Kalvin glanced back at him and groaned. He gave the blonde another quick kiss. “I’ll be right back,” he told her. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Dean moved several feet away and waited for Kalvin to finish prying the blonde off his face. When he did, Kalvin stepped up next to him.

“What?”

“How long are we playing?” Dean asked.

“What are you doing with Payten?”

“What?”

“You’re Payten’s date,” Kalvin said. “She didn’t mention it yesterday. Would you like to fill me in?”

The pissed tone had Dean scrutinizing his friend carefully. Kalvin wasn’t pissed about being pulled away from his latest bed bunny. It was more than that.