SWNOVELS When He Desires: Chapter 2
I’m just getting to the good part of my book—the heroine’s stranded at an inn during a snowstorm, and the morally gray fae prince walks in—when headlights flood through my window. I sit up against the fortress of pillows I’ve piled into the window seat and squint.
Who is that?
That massive truck definitely doesn’t belong to any of my neighbors, and Landhorne Lane isn’t the kind of street that gets a lot of random visitors.
There are only four houses on the lane, two on each side. My house is the smallest, but it’s also the cutest with white shutters, a cozy front porch, and a cornflower-blue front door. I spent all morning painting it in time for the viewing tomorrow. I’m hoping the splash of color will be enough to distract the potential buyers from looking at the monstrosity next door.
The Jackson house.
The truck with the blinding headlights turns onto their driveway.
I slip my finger between the pages of the book so I don’t lose my place and clamber up to my knees to get a better look. Who’s going over there at six p.m. on a Saturday?
It’s not the Jacksons. They never visit anymore. As far as I can tell, they’ve left the place to rot after Earl Jackson became some kind of a confectionary mogul in Kansas City.
The door of the truck swings open, and a long jean-clad leg appears.
I press the book against my chest.
Is that…
Hold on a sec.
Rowan Miller?
The man himself climbs out of the truck in a leather jacket that fits his broad shoulders so well it should be criminal.
My lips tighten in disapproval.
It’s been four months since Rowan came to Darkwater Hollow with his business partner, and in those four freaking months, he’s managed to sleep with half the town’s female population. Okay, that may be a slight exaggeration, but my point stands—the guy’s a womanizer.
As far as I’m concerned, there are few things worse than a handsome man who knows he’s handsome, and Rowan definitely knows.
He walks around town with that insufferable swagger and a permanent cocky smirk on his face. His attitude reminds me a bit of Brett—my ex—another tall, handsome guy, who turned out to be a liar and a cheat.
I frown at Rowan’s silhouette. Did the Jacksons hire him to fix their place up?
My gaze drifts over the dead plants, the overgrown path that leads to the creaky front porch, and the sagging boxes filled with God knows what stacked haphazardly by the front door.
That property is a freaking nightmare. No wonder I haven’t gotten any offers on my own home. Who wants to live next to a place that looks haunted? It really does, complete with a steeply pitched roof, peeling black exterior, and a turret.
Rowan shuts the truck and rakes his fingers through his slightly wavy dark hair. He glances around the yard and then moves toward the front door, a set of keys jingling in his hand.
It’s late for an appointment, isn’t it?
Wait a sec.
There is a mattress in the back of his truck…and a bunch of cardboard boxes…
Is he…moving in?
My eyes widen as he unlocks the front door and steps inside.
What the hell?
The book falls out of my hands, nearly knocking over the full mug of tea that’s beside my empty one on the windowsill.
This is bad.
I snatch my phone up and press one on speed dial.
Del picks up on the first ring. “Aw, do you miss me already?” Wind crackles over the line. “It’s only been like five hours since we last spoke.”
“I always miss you, but that’s not why I’m calling. Do you have a few minutes?”
“Yeah, I’m just sitting in Golden Gate Park and watching hot, shirtless dudes do calisthenics.” She sighs. “God, I love San Francisco.”
“Living your best life, huh?”
“You know it, babe. What’s up?”
Del left Darkwater Hollow two years ago, but she’s better than me at staying on top of all the town gossip. And right now, I need all the intel I can get.
“Did Aunt Lottie mention anything to you about Rowan Miller moving someplace new?”
“Mr. Handy Hero?” Del giggles at the name of Rowan’s construction company. “Based on what Aunt Lottie tells me, I wouldn’t mind if he got those hands on me.”
“Gross. God knows where they’ve been. What exactly did she tell you?”
“Why the sudden interest in the newest local eye candy? Have you finally decided to heed my advice and start dating again?”
“Definitely not.” After what happened with Brett, the thought of dating makes me want to hurl. “I think Rowan is moving in next door.”
Del gasps. “Into that dump? Why?”
“That’s what I want to know. No sane person would choose to live there.” The last tenants the Jacksons had were definitely not sane. They were the worst. They kept my mom and me up all night with their loud parties, left beer bottles and litter all over their front yard, and they even broke the fence between our properties. Of course, the Jacksons still haven’t gotten around to repairing it, and I’m not holding my breath they ever will.
I don’t need a repeat of that, especially now that I’m trying to sell my house. The neighbor across from me, the one who blasts heavy metal early in the morning while I’m trying to sleep, is bad enough. When my agent came by last week, we could barely speak over the racket.
“The rent must be cheap, but I heard Rowan is doing well for himself. Did I tell you Aunt Lottie’s thinking of renovating her whole kitchen now? This is after Rowan promised he’d come and check on things himself.”
I roll my eyes again. “Of course he did. What else has she told you about him?”
“She mostly fawned about how handsome he is. Want me to call her for some real info?”
“Yes, please.”
“Okay, I’ll call you back in five. Actually, make that fifteen. You know she loves to talk.”
We hang up. Aunt Lottie is Del’s aunt in name only. She’s an eighty-something-year-old gossip who taught Del and me all through grade school, and the two of them have kept in touch.
I glance back out the window. Rowan left the front door cracked open. Maybe once he sees the state of the place, he’ll change his mind about renting it. The Jacksons haven’t done anything to it in decades.
When he doesn’t come out for a few minutes, I pick my book back up, but I’m so rattled that I just reread the same two sentences over and over again.
Books have always been an escape for me, a reliable way to forget about my problems for a few blissful hours. But apparently, even a good story is no match for this level of disturbance.
Ugh. There goes my plan of a nice, peaceful evening. I won’t be able to focus until Del calls me back.
My phone buzzes five minutes later. “Aunt Lottie confirmed he’s slept with Gina Hardy, Penelope Nott, and Casey Smith,” Del says. “All give him glowing reviews in the bedroom.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Ugh.” Why would anyone with an ounce of self-respect want to hook up with a guy the rest of the town’s slept with? Just to be another notch on the bedpost? It defies comprehension.
“And there’s a shocking rumor going around that even Aunt Lottie was reluctant to share.”
“But you got it out of her.”
“Of course I did,” Del says gleefully. “Apparently, two weeks ago, Rowan slept with Abigail MacDonald.”
“Abigail MacDonald… Isn’t she married to the owner of the bakery?”
“Yes! That’s why it’s so hush-hush. Apparently, someone saw them getting very cozy at a bar.”
My stomach curdles. “That’s awful. Her poor husband.”
A beat passes. “Oh, babe, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make your mind go there.”
“It’s okay.” For a town as small as Darkwater Hollow, there sure seem to be a lot of cheaters. “Did Lottie know anything about why he’s moving in here?”
“Nope. Actually, she knew surprisingly little about his personal life beyond his bed partners.”
“How is that possible? She can get a fish to talk.”
“She said he has this way of answering questions without telling you anything.”
“That’s a handy skill.”
Del snorts. “Nice one. Look, I’m sorry, but she really had no idea when I told her he was moving in next door to you. She said he’s a gentleman. He gives her a frequent-customer discount now.”
I rub my index finger between my brows. “That’s a sure way to her heart, but I think she and I have different definitions for the word gentleman.”
“I doubt he’ll give you any trouble like the last neighbors did.”
I shake my head, skeptical. “If he does something to that house to lower my chance of getting a damn offer, I swear…”
Del blows out a breath. “Still no luck? I forgot to ask how it’s going with that fancy Kansas City realtor. You met with her again last week, right?”
“Yeah, Nicole. She came by.” Her commission is higher than anyone else I’ve talked to, but at least she’s willing to work with me. The two agents from Darkwater Hollow never returned my calls. It didn’t surprise me, but it still pissed me off. “We have a viewing tomorrow morning.” The only one on the calendar so far.
Del sighs. “Good luck. You’ve got to get out of that house and that town and that fucking restaurant.”
“You’re preaching to the choir.” I’d love to leave Darkwater Hollow, but to start over somewhere new, I need money. Far more money than I make working at Frostbite Tavern. I’m living paycheck to paycheck, saving a tiny bit each month after all my bills are paid.
I tuck my hair behind my ear. “You know, I did the math. If I sell the house at a decent price, I’ll make about twenty thousand after paying off my mom’s outstanding medical bills. That’ll be enough for a fresh start somewhere far from here.”
“I’m so proud of you.”
“What for?”
“Are you kidding? You’re the most selfless person I know. You spent six years taking care of your mom on your own, while he who shall not be named peaced the hell out of town without a care in the world.”
I snort. “Okay, I know you hate my brother, but comparing him to Voldemort is a bit low.”
“The fact that you’re defending him proves my point.”
“I did what I had to do.”
“Yes, and now it’s time to put yourself first. No more making sacrifices for other people. You deserve a fresh start, and most importantly, you need to leave that toxic asshole behind.”
My laugh is bitter. “Yeah. I should get an award for Darkwater Hollow’s biggest idiot.”
“Hey, don’t say that,” Del says with reproach.
“It’s true. I should have seen it coming.”
Rowan emerges out of the house sans leather jacket and with a bunch of stuff in his thick arms.
Broken stuff.
A chair, some rotten planks of wood, a plastic garbage bag…
Wait. What in the hell is he doing? I’m glued to the window. “Hold on a sec,” I mutter to Del.
And then my new neighbor unceremoniously dumps everything right on his front lawn.
“Oh, hell no,” I hiss. Nicole is going to kill me if that’s there when she comes tomorrow with the potential buyers.
“What’s happening?”
“He’s making a goddamn mess.”
“Go yell at him!”
“On it. I’ll call you later.” I hang up and jump to my feet.
There was a time when I wouldn’t have said a word, but four months ago, I decided I was done acting small.
Rowan Miller is about to learn that if he’s going to live there, he’s going to have to deal with me.
And unlike the rest of the people in this town, I’m not going to let him get away with anything.