Chapter 9

NINE

"Great timing on going out to eat." I leaned forward in my seat to rub against the condensation on my car windshield.

My kitchen was still in shambles and there was no way I could cook. I should have just gone over to Lonegan's for a bite or to the diner down the street, but I wanted the perfect pancakes at the Rusty Spoon.

I didn't know why, but they always tasted better than anywhere else. I'd gotten addicted to them when I'd been renovating Macy's place and then reacquainted with them when I'd worked on The Haunt.

Mitch made the perfect bacon too.

My stomach grumbled at the idea of it.

Then the heavens opened up when I was halfway to Crescent Cove.

I kept trying the dials on my heater to help with my foggy window, but the air wasn't strong enough to combat the rain and my own hot ass breath inside the car. "C'mon." I finally hit Main Street and pulled off into the nearest parking spot to wait out the monsoon.

It wouldn't last long—they rarely did in the summer. Okay, so it wasn't quite summer, but it was close enough with the heat we were experiencing the first week of May.

"I just wanted pancakes," I whined to myself as the windshield wipers squeaked and shuddered against the torrential rain.

I sighed. With nothing else to do, I pulled out my phone. I answered a few emails, then a thank you text from Amberly, who was excited to redo her bedroom to cheer herself up.

It was the least I could do.

At least my poor credit cards wouldn't take another hit, or my meager savings, to pay for the damages to the apartments. I'd spent an hour talking to my renter's insurance agent and I deserved the pancakes, dammit. I didn't want to think about my new increased premiums, but that was a problem for future Dahlia.

Now I was rewarding myself for adulting with carbs.

And all the butter.

I glanced up from my phone to see a large, dark figure stumbling from the café. I rubbed the condensation from my window again. Nolan.

"No freaking way. Is he drunk?"

What? On coffee? Macy's coffee was good, but obviously not as strong as alcohol. Okay, sometimes it was nearly that strong.

I turned off my car and kicked open my door and my heart stopped as he stepped down off the curb and lost his balance.

"Shit, shit, shit." The rain was coming down in buckets, but I couldn't let him stumble around like a drunk. Maybe his meeting with Macy hadn't gone well. Did he have a flask on him or something?

Or worse.

I held my hands out at the cars coming. Luckily, everyone was driving slowly since it was a business zone and no one could see. Horns honked at me, but I had one focus.

Get to him.

"Nolan!"

His chin came up and instantly, he held his head.

Nope. That wasn't drunk. I scurried across the street through umpteen puddles, as the sewers couldn't quite combat this level of downpour. This man was going to owe me a whole new shoe collection.

At least this time I was wearing sneakers.

"Get out of my way." He waved his arm at me.

"Nolan, it's me."

His eyes were blind and his long hair was stuck to his head and cheeks, showing off the paleness of his skin. The last time I'd seen him, he'd been quite tan and healthy. Now he was a shade away from gray.

He staggered into the road.

I grabbed his jacket. "You're going to get yourself killed. Just stop."He swung around and fell into me. I shoved my shoulder under his arm.

"I need to get to my truck."

I looked around and couldn't miss the massive silver truck with my handiwork still on the door. "Okay. It's just over there. Don't worry, I'll get you there."

"Just point me in the right direction."

"Don't be stupid." I held out a hand and the traffic slowed around us in both directions.

Another tall guy came barreling out of Kinleigh's Attic across the street. August Beck—thank God.

"You okay, Dahlia?"

"Yeah. Can you help me get him to his truck?"

"He shouldn't be driving in this condition. Come inside the store."

"No!" Nolan roared over the sheets of rain. "I need my medication in the truck. I'll be fine. I just need to get to the truck."

August frowned down at me for verification. Not sure what to do, I just nodded. He curled his arm around Nolan's back and we both managed to get him to the Silverado. I gestured to the sidewalk, and Nolan was too out of it to realize I'd put him on the passenger side.

"Okay, thanks," I shouted over the noise of the wind.

"You sure you're okay?" August asked.

Nolan was digging out his keys.

"I know him. We'll be fine."

He still looked worried, but he nodded and loped off back toward his shop.

Nolan felt his way across to the handle and the truck chirped as he unlocked it. I snatched the keys out of his hand and pushed him inside.

"I'll be fine."

"The hell you will. Just get inside the stupid truck. God save me from stubborn, prideful men, I swear."

He rolled onto his shoulder and unlatched his glove box with shaking hands. I saw a prescription bottle and handed it to him. It took another minute to get him situated correctly in the seat, and I slammed the door before I ran around to the other side.

"Holy shit." I flipped my soaked hair out of eyes and turned to him. He still couldn't get the bottle open. I took it from him and struggled with the childproofing myself. "How many?"

"Two," he said with a growl.

They were tiny and started dissolving between my wet fingers.

He took them and dry swallowed them, then he dragged my hand over to his wet jeans and swiped the pill remnants off my fingers. "Strong stuff." He hit the button to push his seat back and shut his eyes. "I just need twenty minutes. You can go."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Suit yourself."

And then he seemed to shut off like a damn light switch. His breathing evened, but the strain on his face remained. I looked down at the bottle in my hand, but I didn't recognize the name of the medicine.

Without any shame, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and looked it up.

It was for severe migraines. I shot a worried look at him, then I kept reading.

"Twenty minutes, my ass," I muttered. It said the oral form of this stuff took an hour to work. There was no way I could leave him, no matter what he'd said. I just wasn't capable of leaving him in his truck.

Crescent Cove was safe, but I still didn't feel right about it. I tapped the steering wheel as the rain continued to come down, but already it was letting up compared to five minutes ago.

He turned his face toward the passenger window and his arms were folded over his chest. He was wearing a black T-shirt that was molded to every freaking inch of him.

Okay, don't creep on an unconscious dude.

But I couldn't stop looking at him. He was so... big . Not like massive or anything, but he wasn't like the guys I'd been around lately. Dex was impressive, but he was more of a lean and hot, suited guy type. And while he came around quite a bit with Shelby, it wasn't like he was a staple in the studio.

Normally, I'd stand by my LITTLE DICK statement on the side of his big truck, but his well over six-foot frame obviously needed the room. And boy, did he take up the room. His long legs were stretched out, ending with big freaking boots.

The cab of the truck was steaming up, probably from me.

I rolled my eyes and turned on the truck. Luckily, the truck had separate seats so I could pull mine forward and reach the damn pedals. I peered down at the street. We were a long way up. I'd driven a truck a few times, but nothing this big.

I glanced at him again, then out the window.

What should I do? Just sit here?

I played with the fans and defoggers until the windshield cleared. At least his fans worked properly, unlike my old Honda. A few minutes later, the sky cleared, and the sun came out blazing once more. Had to love a lakeside town where the weather changed on a dime.

I glanced over at him, and he was still well and truly out.

Fuck it. I was going to bring him home. I could call a share ride if I really needed one to get back to my car. Avery was also working a job fairly close to the lake.

I put the truck into drive and the powerful engine surged us forward. "Holy crap." I eased out into the street and headed down Main Street toward Lakeside Drive.

It was only a fifteen-minute ride from town, but I white-knuckled it the whole drive. I felt as if I was about ten feet above the road. The house came into view and my heart stuttered as it always did. This side of the lake still had some thunderous clouds over the water.

It made the mansion even more impressive as the eaves were sparking with rainwater while the sun burned off the last of the clouds. I turned off Harriette Lane and even with the dips and ruts of the gravel drive, he didn't stir.

Man, what was in that stuff?

I spotted the silver Airstream and parked the truck beside it. At least he was smart enough to have a trailer, since the house needed a lot of work to be habitable.

Stepping out, I gave a low whistle. Guess he really did have money. That was no pop-up camper, that was for sure. I tucked his keys in my pocket and went around to the passenger side.

I opened the door and shook him. "Okay, big guy. Let's get you into a real bed."

He opened his eyes and the blue was like the middle of the lake. Endlessly, deeply blue. He frowned at me, then he looked out the windshield then sat up.

Wrong move, evidently, because his hands immediately came up to cover his eyes. "Get the hell out of here, Hellcat."

"You're welcome for bringing you home. How about you don't piss me off for five minutes and we get you into that silver tin can, huh?"

He sighed. "Back up," he growled.

"And let you fall on the ground? No way. I can't get you back up." I slid into him, and the scent of cinnamon and coffee enveloped me. "C'mon, I'm stronger than I look."

"I can walk." But he jammed his hip into the door as he swayed.

"You were saying?"

He looked down at me, his face dark with menace.

"You don't scare me."

He didn't say anything, just leaned on me until he got his feet working. "Sunglasses. Where are my sunglasses?"

"I have no idea. You weren't wearing any when I found you."

"Fuck." He shut his eyes against the sun, which was pounding down on us now that the storm was over.

"We've only got a little ways to go. Just keep your eyes closed if you have to."

He growled, but he let me steer him toward the Airstream. The widest part of the trailer had some sort of massive silver foot that stabilized it. We kept walking to the end with the door and I leaned him against the side of the trailer. I tried the latch, but it was locked.

I dug out his keys.

"Silver one with black ring."

"Got it." I unlocked it and opened the door. I eased him around and to the stairs. He hauled himself up the two steps and staggered into the main living space.

It was a small space, but neat and clean. He pin-balled his way off the counter and down the hallway to the back where a bed was. I followed him to make sure he didn't crack his head on something and got a taste of his back.

Massive and muscled, check.

The bedroom area was as dark as a cave with blackout curtains on the windows. He was stripping out of his clothes and the ripple of his back muscles made me swallow down a gasp. He turned as he went for his belt. The sun from the front windows showcased the side of him, and I caught a glimpse of an angry line of scars that made a lightning bolt down his chest and side and into the top of his jeans.

No underwear. Just the scar and the line of hair leading to...

"Unless you want a show, I'm good."

I spun around and gave him privacy, but every inch was burned into my memory. Even under the angry pink of his scars, his body was gloriously muscled.

"Right. I'll just be out here."

"You can take the truck."

"And leave you stranded like this? Not likely."

"I'll be fine. Not the first migraine, won't be the last." He ripped the curtain closed.

"You're welcome," I shouted to him but of course, there was no reply.

I sighed and went back to the front of the trailer. I sat down on the surprisingly comfortable couch and crossed my legs. I was wet, again—maybe even from more than the rain. I didn't really want to think about that part. Or why I was so intrigued by him, even if he was a complete ass.

Obviously, I was contrary and had been too long without male contact if I found him attractive.

Not that it was the scars that turned me off. Actually, they fascinated me far more than they should. But the man and his shitty attitude should not be the fascinating part.

Yet here we were.

My stomach growled.

And I didn't get my damn pancakes.

I slapped my hands on my thighs and stood up. Maybe he had something in his cabinets. I opened the first one over the sink and found pretzels and a six-pack of beer. I grabbed the pretzels and didn't feel guilty because they were already open. I tossed the chip clip on the counter and munched on a few as I searched the skinny cabinet and found rice and instant potatoes.

The fridge was better stocked. I dug around in the freezer and found some ground hamburger. Okay, not totally useless. He had a few more staples that I could probably make into something.

"Thank you, TikTok." I opened the app and found my favorite food content creator. "Come fix you a plate," I said with a grin. "Thank you, I will."