Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Skylar

I rubbed the lacy fabric of a lavender camisole between my fingers.

"Hey, Skylar!"

I jerked my hand down as if burned. Brooks's friend Poppy came up beside me, red hair shining under the midday sun.

She turned her gaze to the lingerie hanging from a rack. I'd just stumbled across the magical outdoor market that was a sort of bazaar with fresh produce, jams, and baked goods, as well as a hodge-podge of other kinds of products.

Like women's lingerie.

"Shopping for someone special?"

I laughed nervously. "No, just passing by."

Against my will, my gaze drifted back to the floral lace pattern on the camisole. Usually, I shopped online for specialty lingerie that would fit a man's body. But occasionally I bought a piece of women's lingerie if it wasn't so form-fitted it would be uncomfortable. It helped that I was slender, even if my shoulders were broader than most women's.

Poppy's eyes widened, and she lowered her voice. "Oh, is it for you?"

My face heated. "Uh…"

"This color would look lovely on you."

My heart skipped at the idea of sharing my secret. I bit my bottom lip. "You think so?"

"Absolutely! You should buy it."

I pulled out some cash since most of the vendors didn't take credit. Then I hesitated again, unsure about buying lingerie in such a public place. It didn't embarrass me, but how would these Ozark people react to a guy wearing silk and lace?

Poppy took the cash from my hand and pulled the camisole off the rack. "Hey, Tammy, how are sales today?"

"Oh, the usual." Tammy was a sunbaked fifty-something who could easily have been a former beauty queen. Her blond hair, dyed and showing dark roots, was feathered in an outdated style, but her blue eyes twinkled as brightly as ever. "Can't compete with the swimwear sellers, but there's always a few vacationers on romantic getaways." She glanced between us. "Why, Poppy, I never thought I'd see the day you'd get yourself a man, much less wear lingerie for him."

"Oh, uh no," she said with a laugh. "Skylar is just a friend."

"Ah." She glanced my way. "He's a cutie though. Maybe he'll change his mind and let you model this."

Poppy turned beet red, and it wasn't fair to let her endure the embarrassment a minute longer.

"It's for me, actually."

Tammy's eyes rounded, and I braced myself for an uncomfortable comment. Instead, she turned speculative. "I can see it." She held up her hands as if framing a photo, and I wasn't so sure I wanted Tammy picturing me in lingerie. Her eyes gleamed. "I would love to make some custom pieces for you sometime. If you're interested."

I gaped. "You make this yourself?"

"Third-generation seamstress," she confirmed. "Though my ancestors never dabbled in lingerie. That's all me."

"Wow."

Tammy handed me her card. "Give me a call if you want something to spec." She waved toward my crotch. "I can accommodate your man bits better that way."

Poppy laughed as I accepted my bag labeled Sassy Secrets. Well, that was appropriate.

"Bet you didn't think you'd have an offer to accommodate your man bits today," Poppy said with a giggle as we walked away.

"No." I chuckled. "I already order a lot of stuff designed for men online. I guess it might be interesting to have something tailored to me. I can't believe Swallow Cove has a lingerie maker."

"Yeah, we're kind of a hodge-podge, wacky place. You can find anything from bait to crocheted cock potholders here."

I blinked, trying to picture that. "Like actual cocks?"

She laughed and pointed toward a booth. "No, roosters!"

"Ohh." I laughed. "I guess my mind went to the gutter."

"You'll fit right in around here, then."

Poppy hadn't been kidding. The market was full of a bizarre array of things. Crystals shaped like cocks—actual cocks this time—sold at a table next to one selling handmade soaps that looked like glazed doughnuts across from one with brandied peaches and pears and another selling every kind of jam imaginable, including dandelion and tomato .

Two older women called over each other, trying to entice us to buy. "You've never had peaches like this—"

"My jellies and jams are world-famous! So fresh and—"

"All my fruits are picked fresh…"

Poppy grabbed my arm and hurried me past. "You don't want to get sucked into their competition. Pearl and Ruth Marie are always trying to outdo each other."

I glanced back over my shoulder to see the women facing off, each looking like a cat with its hackles up. "Ah, thanks for the tip."

"How about we grab a coffee at Just The Sip?"

"Sure, my embarrassment tolerance should be high after talking to a seamstress about my man bits."

Poppy laughed. "Danny must love you."

I shrugged. "Not really. Brooks is more his type."

"Is that right?" Poppy hummed. "I guess if you go for the broody type."

I smiled. Brooks did brood like nobody's business. He scowled more than he smiled, but he also had a softer side. He'd taken such care with me when I got that nasty phone call from Blaize.

I'd stopped by the bar every night since, unable to stay away. My house was too empty, and even with more phone calls to my friends in Seattle, I got restless.

Two nights ago, Brooks had showed me how to properly pull a beer, and my body still tingled at how close and warm his body had been as his strong and sure hands guided mine. I couldn't allow myself to linger on those thoughts.

Of course Brooks was attractive.

Of course I still had a sex drive—even if it was the first time in months desire had touched me.

But I couldn't go there with anyone. And probably never someone as physically intimidating as Brooks. He was just so tall and broad and strong.

The rest of the day was fun. Poppy and I got coffees—I even ordered the Caramel Cockiato without blushing, much to Danny's disappointment—and gabbed like old friends.

When we parted, I thanked her for helping me buy the lingerie and apologized that Tammy had said such rude things to her.

Poppy waved it off. "Oh, that thing about me having a man or wearing lingerie?" She snorted. "It doesn't bother me. I don't date. I don't want to date. Everyone around here knows that."

"Oh. Well, I don't really want to date either these days."

Poppy nudged me. "I'm guessing that's temporary. For me, it's forever. I'm aro ace."

" Oh. " I knew the term well enough to understand Poppy didn't want romantic or sexual relationships, but not much beyond that. "Sorry. I didn't realize."

"It's okay. Most people don't understand it."

I nodded. "Well, not everyone understands my affinity for wearing lingerie either. My ex hated it. Thought it emasculated me."

She rolled her eyes. "In my experience, the people worth knowing will find a way to understand."

Wise words I wanted to take to heart.

That evening, thanks partly to Poppy's reassurance, I slipped on the new camisole and a pair of purple-and-black sheer boy shorts. Overtop, I dressed in burgundy slacks and matching paisley button-down, checking in the mirror to make sure my camisole didn't show through the fabric.

For the first time, I was wearing the lingerie only because I was in the mood. Not to prove a point to myself. Not to feel stronger on the outside.

I smoothed a few flyaway hairs then left for The Rusty Hook.

It was a Monday night, but in a vacation spot, that hardly meant business was slow. I leaned on the far corner of the bar, waiting for a seat to open up.

Brooks came by. "Want me to kick one of these assholes to the curb?"

I smiled. "I'll wait."

"Maybe we should put a sign on your favorite barstool. Reserved for VIP."

He winked, and a whole flock of butterflies took flight in my stomach.

I swallowed and willed myself to look anywhere else. Brooks's big brown eyes were too enticing. As I scanned the room, my gaze caught on a familiar face, and the butterflies fell dead.

Was that… It couldn't be…

Scott Wexler's gaze met mine just then, and he smiled and headed toward me.

My gaze darted around the room, scanning for any sign of Blaize. He and Scott were buddies, and they sometimes collaborated on projects.

"Skylar, I didn't expect to see you here," he said with a grin. "Blaize told me you took a vacation without him, but that's kind of rude, isn't it? You're not getting up to any trouble without your man, I hope."

I couldn't find my voice, and he touched my arm. "Skylar, you okay?" He laughed. "Are you drunk or something? Maybe I should call—"

"No," I said sharply. "Don't call anyone."

He arched an eyebrow. "Okay."

My throat tried to close up on me, and I took a breath and smiled, falling into the act I always put on with Blaize and his friends. "You just surprised me. What are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know, just trolling for projects. This area is a gold mine for development."

"Of course," I said faintly. "I just… I don't recall Blaize having any interest in the Ozarks. My dad got in early because of family ties, so…"

"Right, right. He avoids conflicts with your father." Scott smirked. "Luckily, Uncle Leon and I don't care about keeping Gavin happy. But then we're not shacked up with his son."

My stomach turned over. Clearly, Blaize hadn't told his closest friends we'd broken up. I wasn't sure whether to explain that or not. If they knew the truth, they might tell Blaize where to find me.

Oh god, but what if they told him anyway?

"…tomorrow. Have any interest in coming along?" Scott said.

Panic had clouded my mind, and now I had no idea what he was talking about. "I've got plans."

"Like what?"

Brooks chose that moment to check in. "Skylar, you okay? I can tell this guy to take a hike if you need."

Scott glanced from me to Brooks. "Sky and I are old friends, so how about you mind your own business?"

"Sky?" Brooks prompted.

"I'm fine," I said, knowing that Brooks would gladly toss Scott out on his ass, but that would only send him running to Blaize with stories that might bring him right to me.

Brooks nodded and moved down the bar to serve another customer, his gaze still on us.

"What's his deal?" Scott asked.

"I'm here doing some work for my dad. He owns this bar, so I've been checking in. I'm sure Brooks just thought you were some drunk trying to hit on me." I laughed awkwardly. "Obviously, I don't want that."

"Yeah, good." Scott glanced around. "I bet this place makes a pretty penny, huh?"

"It does okay," I answered vaguely.

Scott lingered longer than I'd like, and when he finally said goodbye, my knees went weak with relief. Our conversation had been like a landmine. I wasn't sure what I should or shouldn't tell him.

If Scott told Blaize about seeing me, it would just be a matter of time until he showed up. I wasn't really afraid of him. Blaize wasn't threatening so much as…demanding.

He'd hit me only once. It was everything that came before that which hurt me the most.

I wasn't afraid of Blaize's fists, but I was terrified of his words.

Of what they'd make me think about myself. Of the ways they'd reach inside and twist me up into the uncertain, anxious mess I'd been with him.

That they'd make me believe whatever he wanted. Send me crawling back to him, just like he wanted.

The thought turned my stomach, and I broke out in a cold sweat.

The real nightmare wasn't that Blaize might assault me. It was that he'd already destroyed me from the inside out.

"Skylar?" Brooks said softly. "You good?"

His deep voice was surprisingly soothing. It calmed my racing heart and reminded me I wasn't with Blaize anymore.

That I didn't have to be ever again.

Before, I'd wanted to look away from those warm brown eyes. Now, I sought them out like a lifeline. I sank into the kindness and concern emanating from him.

"I need a drink," I said. "Make it something strong tonight."

His forehead creased in concern. I braced myself for another man to tell me what to do. Brooks just grabbed the whiskey from a shelf and poured it neat.

"Chester, move along. I need your seat."

An older man sputtered. "What? There's no time limit at the bar."

"There is tonight."

Chester scowled. "I'm glad I didn't tip you."

"As if you ever tip me. Why do you think I chose to take your seat?"

Chester snatched his cheap can of Coors off the bar top and stalked across the room, still grumbling.

"You didn't have to do that."

"Sit, Sky. You're better company than Chester any day."

I threw back the whiskey, the liquor burning a path down my throat to my stomach and warming my icy insides. Then I took a seat and watched Brooks put in a dinner order for me before pouring me a refill.

The normalcy of Brooks behind that bar, moving with a catlike grace despite his size, helped settle my heart rate.

I breathed easier as the night continued.

So, Scott had seen me. He probably wouldn't talk to Blaize anytime soon. He might not even mention me if he did since Blaize had told him I'd gone on vacation.

I couldn't let paranoia rule my life. I was fine. I was safe.

Brooks's warm gaze swept over me again, making me feel like the VIP he'd joked I was earlier. Someone to be cared for and appreciated.

I couldn't hide forever. If I did, I wouldn't really live. I wouldn't get to know people like Brooks Riggins.

And that would be a terrible shame.

Freddy greeted me when I got home, winding around my legs, infusing me with a sense of safety. He was a skittish cat, and he wouldn't be purring up a storm unless everything was as it should be.

I curled up in bed with him, and by the next morning, I could hardly remember why I'd let Scott rattle me so much. I met up with Poppy for coffee. I popped by the marina to talk to Hudson again about updating my father. I saw Fisher, and we chatted about the Dock Hop food festival he was organizing.

I was still an outsider, but Brooks had opened the door for me, and I was getting comfortable here.

Until two days later, when I saw a car that was the same make and model as Blaize's. I told myself it wasn't him—that plenty of people might drive that car—but when another call came in from an unknown number, the first in more than a week, I was sure it was him.

That he was trying to track me down.

I stayed late at the bar to avoid time alone at home. And if I were being honest, to be close to Brooks, because he made me feel safe. When I was around him, my worry seemed far-fetched. The product of my imagination.

But then when I left, it all came rushing back in. The anxiety, the fear, the certainty that I couldn't evade Blaize forever.

Thursday night, it was nearly 2 a.m. when I started the drive up into the hills outside town.

My phone chimed with a notification, a unique sound that came from only my home security app. I pulled to the side of the road to check it, my heart in my throat.

And there, looking into the camera on my front door, was my ex-boyfriend.

He'd finally come for me.