The Rogue (Hideaway Springs #3)

8. Tessa

8

I ’m seated on the kitchen counter stool, biting the shit out of my bottom lip. A nervous tick I’ve been fighting my entire adult life.

Levi and I hardly spoke since Beau quietly reversed out of the driveway during the awkward moment where…I think Indie hired me to take care of his kid.

I’ve been in his house all afternoon processing after he left for the ranch, returning with Jackson at his side and take out from the Inn.

We ate dinner quietly—well, we were quiet. Jackson talked up a storm about a rock he and a kid named Rowan found. And how they cracked it into pieces finding a crystal center.

About an hour ago, Levi announced bedtime in a way that almost made it sound fun and disappeared up the stairs with Wiggles.

Meanwhile, I’ve been sitting here practically banging my head against the marble counter because what in the actual fuck did I get myself into ?

I needed to get the fuck out of town.

I needed a job and a place to live.

I wanted it to be in Hideaway Springs.

I didn’t want to be responsible for another human .

I’m not a kid person. Hell, I don’t even remember being one. I’m an only child.

My only frame of reference for parenting is dad leaving mom a year after I was born, reappearing every so often only to take off again. Once I was old enough to care for myself—around seventeen—they both left.

Not that I see myself ditching the kid or anything, but who’s to say I won’t screw something up the way my parents did?

How much time is too much to spend with a kid until you’ve somehow managed to fuck with their innocent little mind?

I like Jackson too much to mess up his beautiful soul.

First time I met the kid was at his birthday party last fall when I was part of Aiden’s catering crew. The moment I laid eyes on him, I knew who he belonged to.

The mean rugged cowboy that makes you want to cock your head to the side and ask, “Who hurt you?”

Still boggles me how the two boys upstairs are related.

Jackson is warm, trusting, and bursting with exciting energy that makes you want to ruffle his hair and pull him in for a squeeze.

Levi is a grumbly, rugged ice-cold skeptic who makes you want to scream. And not in a good way.

Which is unfortunate.

I stiffen when I hear him making his way back down. What the hell now? Do I act like I know what I’m doing? Tell him he won’t be disappointed? Will he see right through me?

A cedary scent lingers when he moves past me to stand across the counter. “Thanks for not saying anything to Jackson yet.”

“I’m not exactly sure what to say.”

“Me neither,” he grumbles, and it makes me swallow.

One of us should know how to do this.

I push off my seat. “This was a bad idea. ”

“Sit down.”

I drop back onto my seat. His intimidating energy doing a number on me already.

“Tell me about yourself, Tessa.” The question doesn’t come out casual or conversational. Reading between the lines, he’s asking me to give him a reason to change his mind.

“I’m an only child. Natural redhead.”

“Where are you from?”

“All over.”

“Tessa.”

“What does it matter? What East Coast takes care of kids better than the West Coast? Who cares?”

“So, West Coast?”

“Chicago.”

He considers that for a moment. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“Why’d you come to Hideaway Springs?”

“Which time?” I ask, already putting up my defenses.

“All of them.”

“These are not the questions you asked the other candidates today.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t expect a candid answer.”

Our gazes lock, it’s raw and intense and it makes me look away. I hate being the first to look away. “I’m not answering it.”

“Well, I can’t exactly ask what your experience is since it’s non-existent.”

“I can cook.”

“So can I.”

“I can tell by all the takeout containers.” I blink with a grin.

His biceps tighten, flexing with the pressure against the counter. “Summer’s really busy at the ranch. ”

“You’re welcome,” I remind him with a snap.

He crosses to me. “You’ll protect him.”

The word jolts me into hyper-awareness. “From what?”

His gaze drifts. “Anything that could hurt him.”

“With my life,” I say it with every bone in my body. I’d protect the hell out of that kid.

His gaze drops to my mouth. “The job is temporary. Just till the end of summer. That’s six weeks. Can you make it without skipping town that long?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Tessa.”

“Yes,” I say tightly instead of storming out that door like he deserves.

He nods like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. But it’s clear as day. Someone did a number on this guy. Or his kid. Maybe both?

“Do I get a question?”

“Sure,” he answers just as tight.

“Is every conversation going to be this intense?”

“Can’t handle it?”

I narrow my eyes. “I’d like to be prepared.”

“Probably.” He glances at my small suitcase at the bottom of the steps. I’d brought it down this morning, prepared to leave. “Where’s the rest of your stuff?”

“This is it.”

“It’s one bag. People pack more on a four-day cruise.”

“I live with someone back…where I’m from. She doesn’t have a lot of space.”

“You don’t have a place of your own?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t have been living at the Inn for six months.”

He watches me—clearly another question on his mind. But lets it go. Shifting his gaze, he crosses to a calendar on the refrigerator. “Jackson has a handful of activities planned for the rest of the summer. Some with friends from town, some with family. It’s all here. I’m up at six every morning and then head down to my gym for thirty minutes before heading to the ranch. You’re free to use it after that.”

“Or before,” I mutter.

“And about your early hours.” He turns to me. “I don’t like it.”

“I’m sorry?”

“That may have worked for you before, but you’re responsible for a child now. I need you focused and alert.”

This makes me want to scream. Because my internal alarm clock is not by choice. It’s a goddamn curse. One that no kiss from a frog is going to break. But I don’t come with much else to offer, so with this, I appease him. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Great. Any questions?”

“Can I stay in the den?”

“What?”

“I like it in the den. Can I stay there?”

“There’s no door.”

“I’ll change in the bathroom.”

“What’s wrong with the bedroom?”

The wardrobe. The door. Window too high from the ground.

“Nothing, it’s fine. It’ll be fine.” I convince myself.

“Are you overwhelmed?”

“No,” I lie.

The tension is so high, and the truth of the matter is, I’ve been living with enough self-doubt and depreciation to have to put up with it from this guy.

“One more thing.” I slide off the seat and cross the space between us. His eyes sweep over me but are unreadable as I stop directly in front of him. “Either you fix your tone when you speak to me, or you’ll be right back where you started.”

He holds my gaze for a beat, and I can’t tell if it’s my imagination or if he’s tilting toward me. Maybe even smelling the top of my head?

Pulling back, he drags a hand down his face and gives me a quick nod. “Okay.”

“Can we get ice cream at Millie’s today?” Jackson asks as he hands me dry dishes from the washer that I ran overnight.

It’s my second full day with Jackson and so far, so good. Who knew I’d be good at this nanny thing? Who knew it’s basically living your day-to-day, cooking, tidying up, and talking nonsense to your customers as you refill their coffee?

Except it’s one customer, and it’s apple juice.

“Um…” I turn to the schedule. Tomorrow is a big day. In addition to a few errands to run in town, I’m supposed to have him at the Inn for something called a ‘Web Party’. “Yeah, we’ve got room for ice cream today.” I scan his snug outfit. “But first, I want to go through your closets and pick out some things that might be a little small for you that we can donate.”

“Okay.” He closes the empty dishwasher.

I would have emptied the thing earlier myself—when I was up at four-fifteen this morning. But with Levi’s warning that I can’t be waking up at ungodly hours of the night, I opted for little to no noise around the house .

Bright side is, I got in a good workout in his fully equipped gym, washed my hair, let it air dry, and read a magazine about agriculture. I waited until after the boys were up to start moving about in the kitchen. Least I could do is make it look like I woke up at a normal hour.

Levi mostly grunted all morning before leaving for the ranch, and that’s fine. Grunting is better than setting more rules and expectations I’m bound to never meet.

With the kitchen sparkling, we head upstairs to rummage through his dresser.

“Dad said he’ll take me shopping closer to the school year for new stuff. Says at the rate I’m going, I might grow another six inches before then.”

I laugh. “You did get a little taller since I last saw you.”

This seems to jog a memory for the little guy. “Grandpa missed you at the Inn.”

I glance back. “How do you know?”

“I asked him.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. I said, ‘I miss Tessa. She used to give me more fries’. And Grandpa said, ‘Me too kid, but I could do without the fries’.”

I shake my head with a smile I can’t help. “Okay, take a look at these.” I toss a few things at him. “If you can live without it, I think we should add it to the donation pile.”

We pack a generous load to drop off and clean up his room.

“There, now there’s room for new stuff.”

“Cool.” He looks up at me with joyful eyes. “Ice cream now?”

I check my watch. “But we haven’t had lunch yet?”

He shrugs.

I narrow my eyes at him. “Yeah, okay.” I reach for his hand. “Let’s go rogue.”

“Come out, come out wherever you are .”

Sweat drips down my face, my neck, and hell, I’m hot everywhere. It’s fucking boiling in here. Who the hell keeps a standing wardrobe anymore?

My eyes drop to the side where my dead body is going to be a minute from now, and my last thoughts are, “Who the hell keeps a standing wardrobe?”

Footsteps grow closer, and I inch further behind the pile of clothes.

Sirens sound in the distance, but it does nothing to settle the pounding of my heart. To the undeniable truth that I am not making it out of here alive.

Those cops could be right outside and I’d still have no shot in hell.

“Eddie, we gotta get out of here.” The other voice is urgent, almost as desperate as I am for them to leave.

“She’s in here,” the voice of the guy who shot Eric grits.

“There’s no one here—let’s go.”

A nearby chair is kicked angrily. “I fucking saw her, Vince.”

I bite down a whimper.

The sirens are closer. I chew on my bottom lip as I peek through the cracks. Eddie slams the closet across the room shut. After a beat, his eyes flick across the open space to the wardrobe.

No, no, no, no.

He marches forward and I barely have time to blink before the door is pulled open and I’m thrown to the cold tile floor next to my dead boyfriend. He points the gun at me. The same one that put two bullets in Eric minutes ago.

I stare at his body, a cold, dreadful thought sweeps my mind and I’m a horrible person for it.

You might have deserved this ending, but I don’t.

“Eddie, we got to go.” Vince presses, his voice ragged. He must be new to the organization.

Eddie flips me over, a sharp strike across my face. “What did you see?”

“Nothing,” I breathe.

“What did you see?” he shouts.

Somewhere behind where I lie on the floor, Vince curses under his breath and opens the window, making Eddie snap his head up. “The fuck are you doing?”

“Getting out of here.” Vince jumps as Eddie curses and moves to the window.

Shit. The window. Why didn’t I think of that when we heard them coming? I could have made it.

But I stupidly let Eric shove me in the damn wardrobe.

“Vince!” he whisper-screams, then points the gun out the window and fires. “Damn it. Wait.”

Jesus Christ.

Scrambling to my feet, I’m at the door in two seconds and pull. Locked. It’s locked.

I struggle with the knob, twisting the little latch in every direction, desperate to break free, but the damn thing won’t give. All I hear is my last jagged breath before a deafening sound goes off.

A wave of agony radiates through me as sharp, searing pain explodes right through my lower back. I’m stiff as my knees give out, my fingers slide off the doorknob, and I fall to the ground.

I jerk forward, gasping for air, my hands clutching at the covers over me as I rock myself back to sanity. Trying not to imagine that if he’d aimed a little higher, I’d either be dead or paralyzed.

Pulling out of bed, I stride to the door and pull it open. If only just a crack.

The laundry list of baggage I have carried since that day is outrageous. The therapy I refused even more.

I change and head down the stairs to the gym, confident that the thunder and lightning outside these walls will overthrow the sounds of my footsteps at four in the morning.