Tracked by Trouble (Bad Boys Need Love, Too #3) Page 5

  “It’s Beck, isn’t it?” Jace said. He hefted three of the heavy bags with ease. “Where do you want these?”

  “Follow me, and yeah, probably. My phone’s been blowing up.”

  “And let me guess, you haven’t responded.”

  “Right again. Leave it alone, would you? I’m done being second place.”

  “All right, all right, I’ll leave it. But you could at least hear her out. Exes can be dickheads. You know the grief Kate gave me.”

  “Yeah, good point. But I’m not ready to experiment. I’d rather…” Zed searched for the right phrase.

  “Play with yourself? Wank off in the shower?”

  “That’s not what I was going to say,” Zed said with a scowl, increasing his pace. “Leave it. It’s my business.”

  “What were you going to say?”

  “Come on, Savage.”

  “Say it. Then I’ll let it go.”

  “I’d rather be sure she’s done with the guy. I deserve that much. You should have seen her anger flare. She said he’s still trying to get a rise out of her. I told her it seems to be working.”

  “Well, there’s your answer. When Kate showed up at my place of work with her last bit of messed up news, I went ballistic. It had been over between us for months but she kept wanting to poke me like I was a badger in a cage. Who wouldn’t be mad?”

  “Okay, you’ve made your point. Maybe, I’ll give her a chance to explain.”

  “Good. And let’s get you buff to boot.” He eyed Zed’s muscles. “Buffer—we’ll get you buffer. You’re already pretty strong. Still, which one of us is carrying the most load here?” Jace said.

  “I didn’t ask you to show off.”

  They both released their loads onto the floor of the shed with a grunt. Zed’s gaze tracked a sleek vintage red Mustang careening into the parking lot at a clip. “Great. She’s a stalker.”

  Jace laughed. “And I will see you later. Text me your mom’s address, will you?”

  “Yeah. Later.” He shook Jace’s hand and licked his lips as the body of a very sexy woman with an extremely angry scowl peeled from the front seat of her car.

  Chapter 6

  “What the hell, Zed Farrell?” Beck launched herself from the Mustang, words flying, one long red braid streaming behind her like a blowtorch flame before she had a chance to check her mouth. “You couldn’t at least text me back and say get lost?” If there was one thing she seriously lacked, it was impulse control.

  She stormed toward him, gray coat swirling around her, the heels of her black, blue, and gold floral adorned rain boots making soft thuds on the packed dirt. She’d at least had the good sense to put on something weather appropriate when she left for the bar this morning. While the day started out sunny, rain clouds were now moving in. Typical for the Pacific Northwest.

  “You couldn’t at least get the hint?” Zed retorted hotly. “I’m not interested in being someone’s sloppy seconds.”

  “Who said you were seconds?”

  “Oh, the pro ball douchebag you had to deal with when we were in the middle of our date. How did it go? Did you two have make up sex?”

  For someone she barely knew, Zed seemed surprisingly angry. Maybe he’d been as affected by her as she had by him. Or maybe he felt used. She winced. “No, we didn’t have make up sex. He tried to kiss me. And his kiss sucked. It didn’t affect me half as much as yours did.”

  Zed’s mouth dropped open and he stared at her, fire flaring from his sexy, startling clear blue eyes. Recovering from whatever reaction he’d had, he said, “You kissed. How over is that?”

  “He planted one on me. I shoved him off. It went as usual. ‘You’ll never find anyone as good as me, Beck,’” she said in a deep voice. “‘What we had was special.’ I told him to get lost—again—he told me we weren’t through, I told him we were. I told him we were a dysfunctional, combustive train wreck who would only destroy each other. Same old, same old. That shit is over, Zed. It’s over.”

  “Not if he’s still getting in your way, it isn’t.”

  She started to say something else, then shut her mouth and glared at him. He still had on short sleeves like he lived in the Bahamas, not Washington State. His arms were smudged with dirt, evoking that hay-baling cowboy image. His muddy jeans clung to powerful looking legs much like she’d like to cling to him. His stallion’s mane hair, tousled by the wind, made her think of bedhead, the yummy look a guy had after a night of good loving. Damn. Even pissed he’s sexy.

  “Well?” Zed said.

  “Well, what?” she snapped. If she thought she and Tyler were combustible, she and Zed seemed to carry it to a new level. She barely knew the guy and she’d showed up guns blazing, ready to throw down with him.

  He responded with matching vehemence, as if they’d been in a relationship for years. “Is it over, or isn’t it? I told you, I don’t want to be seconds. I’ve had that experience a time or two and it sucked.”

  “It’s over. I have to get my couch and then I’ll never have to see him again.”

  “Ah, the old ‘let’s leave our shit at the exes’ house and pretend we’re through with one another’ routine.”

  “I didn’t have a way to get it to my house. I left in a bit of a hurry.”

  “Why? Was he violent with you?”

  “No.”

  “Did he hold money over your head? Do you owe him?”

  “No.”

  “Do you have kids together? Custody issues?”

  “No!” His questions were like being probed at the gynecologist’s with your legs open wide. Not comfortable in the least.

  “Then why’d you have to leave so fast?”

  “You’re being awfully nosy with my past.”

  “I’m curious how your relationship ended. Endings speak a lot of character.”

  “What, are you a psychologist?” She felt completely put on the spot. There was no way in hell she’d tell him the real reason she had to leave in a hurry—it was because she’d tried so many times she didn’t think she could do it unless she up and left, sneaking out in the middle of the night, taking her dog and a bag of clothes she’d packed swiftly earlier in the day to move into the house she’d rented in secret. Maybe Zed’s right. It was a volatile relationship with an explosive ending…or two…or three…or five.

  “Well?” Zed pinned her with his eyes.

  “It was a difficult ending.”

  “Difficult, how? Because it’s not truly over, am I right? Look, I don’t know you well. We shared a great date, an amazing kiss and all but…”

  “But nothing, Zed. I want to get to know you better. I loved our date.”

  “Did you love him? Do you still?”

  Their gazes locked, she couldn’t answer. She stood stiffly, like a frigging deer in the lights of a car, able to see the lights but not the vehicle behind them, about to plummet into her.

  “That says something,” Zed said quietly.

  “What does?” She lowered her gaze and studied her booted feet.

  “You can’t answer me.”

  “What does it say?” Her head lifted but she couldn’t look at him straight on. Instead, she kept flicking her gaze at him like she might burn her retinas if she stared at him directly.

  “The fact you can’t answer me says you loved him once and you love him still.”

  “Yeah, but…”

  Zed held up his hand. “Maybe he did us both a favor by showing up. I started to like you. I started to feel hopeful.” He gave her a sad smile. “I know, it was only one date, but…”

  “Come on, Zed! I enjoyed our date. There’s nothing left between Tyler and me.”

  “Except a couch and a lotta leftover love. Anyone can see that.” He sighed. “Tell you what. Get your sofa. See what transpires next. If there’s something between us, it will flourish in the right environment.”

  “What’s the right environment?” Her words came out all squeaky and childish. She felt all of ten years old. Me,
the woman who dropped out of school, moved out of my dad’s at age seventeen, got a job, got my GED, and got it together to go back to school to pursue a Master’s degree.

  “Look around you. This. The natural world. Not a world of hurt and party lifestyle and lingering couches left at your lover’s home.” He murmured that last bit, as if to himself. He swept his arm toward the barns, buildings and rows and rows of plants. “I help things thrive. I’m interested in living systems and the health of our world. I know how to grow things. How to sustain life. How to build things.” His eyes lit up making him look youthful and excited. “I know how to nourish a tiny seedling into a giant, healthy tree. I know how to shape things with my bare hands.” He lifted his hands and swept them in curvy lines in the air.

  The gesture made her shiver, like he’d run his hands along her bare skin.

  “I know how to sustain life. I’ve never found the right person to do it with, though, in a relationship. Haven’t given up. It’ll happen.” The words tumbled from his mouth, as if he’d pulled the lever on a trap door, letting loose the contents.

  Her thoughts wandered into the relationship zone, wondering what he meant, exactly, about sustaining life in a relationship.

  “I like to interact with the natural world. I like to see how I can influence it for the better. I like to make things beautiful, you know? I did a brief internship with a program right out of high school. We took crappy urban dwellings in New York City and turned them inside out with living, growing things. We got the community interested in putting time and care into the world around them. You should have seen it,” he said, talking a mile a minute. “For some of those kids, it was the first time they’d planted a garden. We built all these rooftop gardens. We showed them they could grow some of their own fresh food and nurture their bodies. It was an amazing experience.”

  “And then what happened?” She loved listening to him, hearing his excitement.

  “Funding. The project got canned because they ran out of money.” He shrugged. “I came back home and got a job here. I’ve worked here ever since.”

  “What do you do?” she asked, fascinated.

  “First, I was just a grunt worker, moving plants, loading them into customer’s pickups…shit like that. For a while that’s all I was capable of. You know, when I hung out on the Donzi, O’Reilly’s party boat—that, and his yacht. It’s a wonder my boss kept me around. I’d show up so fucking hung over I could barely stand.” He shook his head. “Now I’m one of the managers and a buyer. I design sustainable systems, do research. I’m also a guest lecturer at a couple colleges—one in the city, one in Bellingham. It’s a growing industry. We’ve been getting nibbles from other colleges, too. I’ve always got my hands into something. It’s a great place to work.”

  Beck found herself wanting him to get his hands onto her. She blinked and tried to clear her head of lusty thoughts. “Wow, Zed. You seem like a kind, decent kind of guy.”

  He winced like she’d struck him with her palm.

  “What did I say? I find what you’re saying beautiful.”

  “Yeah, right.” His jaw tightened and he crossed his arms over his chest, like a shield.

  “I do.” The guy seems so much more caring than Tyler. Tyler’s all about image, power and speed. “There’s way more to you than meets the eye, Zed Farrell.”

  His eyes narrowed.

  “I want to find out more.”

  He chewed his lower lip.

  “I’m serious.”

  His tongue darted along his mouth, then disappeared. “Get your couch back first. Clean up any loose ends you’ve got hanging. Then, maybe. I’ve got to train for a triathlon anyway, so I might not be too available,” he added.

  He seemed wistful when he said the last part, like maybe he needed to convince himself. Or maybe I need to convince myself he’s still interested. She let out a big sigh. “All right, Zed. I’ll do it. You’ll see. I’ll clean up my loose ends. I’m quick, too.”

  He laughed, then quickly sobered. “Just…just take care of business, that’s all I’m asking. If this is going to go anywhere…” He gestured between them then let his hand fall. “Take care of business, Beck.” He chewed his lower lip, thoughtful. “I’ve, uh…I’ve got to get back to work. And…well…uh, thanks for stopping by…and letting me know you’re still interested. That means a lot to me.” A small, sad, sincere smile appeared on his face.

  The expression melted her in a million directions. Had she ever been so deeply touched by a guy in her life? Well, yes, I have, if you count the sick dynamic I had...have...with.... He stood six three, had white blond hair, pitched a mean fastball, and she simply couldn’t let him go—not if she was honest with herself, and right now, that’s the last thing she wanted to be.

  Chapter 7

  The Saturday of the big motherfucking event, Zed woke up early with a lead ball in his belly. He threw back the covers, groaning at the day ahead. “Let’s get this over with,” he said, and within the hour, had showered, shaved, dressed, ate and now sat in his truck, zooming towards his mom’s house an hour plus away.

  When he pulled up to the sprawling two-story house overlooking the Strait, he noticed his sister’s white Toyota sedan in the driveway. He pulled up behind her and got out, heading to the truck bed to retrieve a couple of five-gallon trees he’d promised his mom. He hefted them out of the truck and placed them in the yard, plunking them on the drying grass.

  Rickie came barreling out of the house. “Uncle Zed! Guess what? We had a sea lion naming contest at school, and I won!” He raced over to his uncle, hugged his hips, let go and jumped up and down.

  “I thought the pup already had a name?”

  “No, he only had a fake name. I won and got to name him for real!”

  “What did you name him?” Zed asked, ruffling the boy’s curly light brown hair.

  “Murphy! Mom helped me look it up. It’s Gaelic. It means ‘sea warrior.’ And guess what else?”

  “Tell me,” Zed said, his heart full of affection.

  “They found his mom. Or they think it’s his mom. She’d been shot, too. Someone’s been doing target practice in the sea,” he said, probably mimicking what he’d been told.

  Zed frowned. “Is she okay?”

  “They don’t know. They’re making a movie of her and Murphy. They’ll show it the week after the race at a big party that everyone can come to! Isn’t that cool? You’re going to be in a race with a movie named after Murphy!”

  Rickie’s little sister Cerise toddled to the front door. She raised her hand and tried to get the latch of the screen door to open.

  “No, no!” Rickie cried. “Don’t come out here. Shoot! I’m going to get into trouble. I’m supposed to be watching her.” He raced to the front door and held it shut, causing Cerise to cry.

  Zed knew his sister wouldn’t be far. If she let Rickie watch Cerise, she’d be close at hand, helping his mom with something. They were probably in the back of the house, setting up the dining area. All the kids pitched in to help Mom since their dad had died a couple years ago from a heart attack. Except for the war hero. He’s too busy saving the country and looking good. “Let me help, Rickie. We’ll make sure you don’t get in trouble.” He swung the door open and lifted three-and-a-half-year-old Cerise into the air. “What’s the fuss, Miss Muffin? What’s ruffled your feathers?”

  The child hugged her uncle’s neck and gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

  “Thank you, princess. Go help your brother.” He set her on the stoop.

  Rickie grabbed her hand and led her into the house. “Stay with me, Cerise. I don’t want to get into trouble again.”

  Zed wiped his shoes off on the doormat, before tromping into his comfortable childhood home. He glanced at the worn brown furniture, the fading rugs, and thought, Geez, Ma could sure use some new stuff. Maybe me and my siblings can help buy her a new sofa or something. Thinking of sofas made him start thinking of Beck. He quickly changed the channel in
his head when his sister appeared in the doorway.

  “Hey, little bro,” she said, wandering toward him to plant a kiss on his cheek.

  He let out a guffaw. “What in hell did you do?”

  She patted her straight, bleached blond hair, cut in different lengths from her chin to her shoulders, and twirled in a circle. “What do you think? Do you like it? We got a new product line in the shop and I had to try it out.”

  “It looks, um…interesting. Won’t you have some seriously dark roots in a couple weeks?”

  “When that happens, I’ll dip the ends in black and have an entirely different style. Jeff thinks it looks fresh and hot. He told me I look like Gwen Stefani. I told him he looks like Brad Pitt. He’s been working out lately, getting fit.”

  “Uh huh,” Zed said, eyeing his sister’s appearance.

  “What happened to your head?” she asked, frowning.

  “Huh?” Remembering the fading bruise, he said, “Oh, it’s nothing. I ran into a branch at work.”

  “Ouch. It looks painful.” She stepped toward him, fingertips extended, to touch it.

  “It’s nothing. Leave it.” Maybe I should get my ball cap from the truck. He didn’t want the inquisition today. Then again, once His Highness arrived, all attention would be sucked from the room.

  “Whatever you say, brother.” A five-foot-two bundle of energy, wearing a knee-length skirt, tennis shoes and a sloppy sweatshirt, she leaned against the back of the couch with a sigh. “The day’s only started and I’m already bushed.”

  Zed sauntered toward her and leaned against the sofa by her side, folding his arms over his chest. “How’s work?”

  “Mine or Jeff’s?”

  “Both, I guess.”

  “The salon’s doing great. I had to hire another stylist to keep up with clientele. The shellfish farm keeps cranking out baby oysters and geoducks, mussels and clams. Asian markets devour them. Jeff can’t keep up with demand sometimes. And that’s the relaxing part.”

  “What’s the non-relaxing part?” Zed asked.

  “Three kids, what do you think?”

  Zed scoffed. “That’s what happens when you fit the parts together, sis, or haven’t you figured that out?”