Chasing Rhodes (Rock Falls #1) (2 page)

He leans down to kiss me on the cheek and whispers, “Missed you, baby,” before turning his attention back to the conversation.

As I pretend to listen to the boys talk about the most efficient ways to decapitate a zombie, I let my gaze drag across the living room. Before I even saw
him
, I could feel
him
. When his eyes meet mine, I shiver. I knew in my soul that this boy was as dangerous as a high-rise-building fire.

Mama said that you shouldn’t play with fire or you’ll get burnt, and I, Hannah Rhodes, have no intention of running into that fire. Ever.

Six Months Later

O
H GOD. THIS
is it. I’m dead. My tombstone is actually going to read ‘Te-kill-ya, it killed her.’ I never should have let the girls convince me that breakup drinking was a good idea. When is drinking ever a good idea? Ugh. I’m never drinking again. Lying on my side, I’m attempting to work up the courage to open my eyes and suffer the light of day. Okay, I can do this. I can open my eyes. I’m thirsty and I need to pee. This has to happen. Wake up, Hannah! Little mental pep talk over with, I decide to take the plunge. I start with squinting open my left eye and then slowly my right. I’m momentarily blinded by the sunlight streaming in from the window above the bed. Wait. What? I don’t have a window above my bed. My eyes fly open, much to the dismay of my pounding head and I start to take in my surroundings.

The first thing I notice is a large framed poster of Parkway Drive, the Australian metal-core band, hanging on the wall. Next to it, a tall, black dresser with an array of colognes strewn across the top and in the corner is what seems to be an old acoustic guitar.
I don’t know this room. Fuck, I think I’ve officially screwed up something fierce.
I groan out loud, and my mental ass-whooping comes to an abrupt halt when the arm underneath my head moves.
Oh my God. An arm! A muscular, tattooed arm is under my head.
I take a deep breath and begin a quick inventory of my clothing—or, in this case, my lack thereof.
I’m naked. Great! Good job, Hannah. You’ve been single for barely a month and you’ve already landed your first one-night stand.

Operation Get Out of Dodge starts now!
I slowly roll onto my stomach, and by slow, I mean a turtle could do this faster, shell and all, but I do not by any means want to wake up the owner of that arm anytime soon. Once I’m on my stomach, I steal a quick glance at him. He’s lying on his back, head facing away from me and the sheets are lying dangerously low on his hips.
Well, looks like he’s naked too!
I’m giving myself another mental chastising for my naughty shenanigans when he shifts in his sleep and the sheet inches lower. My mouth goes dry. I’ve lost all train of thought and I can’t help but stare. His body is stunning. A beautiful red-haired siren sitting on a rock in the water is artfully covering the left side of his torso and across the entire width of his chest, a menacing lion stakes its claim. I move my way down his body, his chest rising and falling slowly, and take in his chiseled abdomen. He looks powerful, even in his sleep, much like I imagine the predator tattooed on his chest would look like in real life. I take one last look at the sexy V leading beneath the sheets and sigh.
He has the V...
I smile at myself and dish out a mental high five. The owner of the arm is incredibly good-looking.

All right, ogling time is over. Plus, ogling someone while they sleep seems kind of creepy, even if you have already slept with them (but don’t remember). I ease off the bed and decide that locating my phone seems like step number one because I have no idea where I am and I’m sure I didn’t drive here. I find my iPhone lying on the floor, half underneath the bed. Ignoring the missed messages lighting up the screen, I type out a quick text to my older sister, Beth.

Me:
I need a ride. Can you pick me up? I’ll call you in ten minutes and let you know where to meet me.

Second step, clothing. Of course I couldn’t have worn a sundress or something so that I only had to locate one item. I have to be a lover of layers, although most Canadians are given that the weather changes every five minutes. After searching high and low, I’ve found my jeans, boots, left sock, bra, sweater and jacket. Still at large is my right sock and my shirt—whatever, I could do without those. Another two minutes and I’m dressed. I don’t think I’ve ever dressed myself that fast in my life. I’m more of a ‘rip everything out of the closet until my room looks like a bomb went off’ kind of girl. Step three, find Michael. There’s no way Michael is going to be collateral of my one-night stand with the owner of the arm, whether he’s delicious or not. I know what you’re thinking... No, Michael’s not a person; he’s my handbag. I’m actually not a very preppy girl, for lack of a better word, but since my cousin, Wyatt, came out of the closet a few years back, I’ve taken a major liking to designer handbags. The one currently evading me was my green Michael Kors hobo, and come hell or high water, I am not leaving this place without it.

I am checking behind a large, leather chair in the opposite corner when I hear shuffling across the room.
Oh God, please don’t let the owner of the arm be awake,
I think as I turn back towards the bed. My one-night stand shifted in his sleep, again, and is now lying on his side facing me.
FUCK! Fuck, fuck, fuckidty, fuck! Screw Michael. I’m out of here. Right fucking now!
I turn swiftly on the heel of my boot, ready to make a run for it, when I trip, sending my iPhone flying across the carpeted room. I send a panicked glance towards the bed.
Still asleep. Whew!
Man, someone’s looking out for me today,
I think as I crawl towards my phone. Well, I thought wrong... I am no more than three feet from my phone when it starts to ring, loudly.
Curse me and my stupid need to have everything at maximum volume all the time!
I lunge for it, but in my haste, I only manage to send it flying farther away from me as my sister’s ringtone, “Let’s Get It On” by Marvin Gaye begins blaring from the tiny speakers.
I’m going to kill Beth when I see her! Kill her right on the spot for choosing that terrible ringtone.
I reach the phone and silence it. Still on my hands and knees, I look towards the bed, hoping the owner of the arm is a heavy sleeper. It was a false hope.

Looking back at me is a pair of pale-blue eyes I’ve only seen once before.
Shit.
I just had a one-night stand with the Charlie Hunnam lookalike.

Y
OU KNOW THOSE
nightmares you have where you’re being chased by some Freddy Krueger looking motherfucker and he finally catches up with you, you go to scream for help but nothing comes out, and you’re frozen in place, awaiting impending doom? That's exactly the way I felt looking at him, less the Freddy Kruger part. My Hunnam lookalike is definitely easier on the eyes than ‘ol Freddy. He’s looking at me, giving me a sleepy half grin, clearly amused at my predicament. Not only have I just slept with him but don’t recollect any of it, but to top off the trifecta, I’m also on all fours having just been caught attempting to execute the sex equivalent of a dine-and-dash.

“Mornin’, sweetheart.” He moves to sit up, making no attempt to cover himself as the sheets fall away.

My throat goes dry again looking at him. He’s hard as a rock, and I lick my lips again without thinking about it. I’m not even sure I can remember what words are. Before I can attempt to say anything, my phone starts ringing again.
Fucking Marvin Gaye.
He chuckles, and I shoot him what I hope is a death glare. I don’t have the bitch face quite as down pat as my best friend Lennon, but I think it still packs a pretty good punch.

“I have to go,” I croak out and make a beeline for the bedroom door. I guess my fight-or-flight instinct has kicked in, and I’ll be damned, for the first time in my life, I am thrilled that my body chooses flight because there isn't a snowball’s chance in Hell I am staying in this room any longer.

I’m a glutton for punishment, I guess. It’s the only reason I can explain why I thought it would be even a remotely good idea to steal another look at him over my shoulder. He’s still watching me, looking hot as hell, sitting naked on the bed. I’m stalled in the open doorway. The option to get naked again and spend the rest of the day in bed with him flutters through my mind, but I shake off the thought just as quickly as it came.

“Thanks, I guess,” I say and instantly regret it.
Thanks? Hannah, seriously?
The last thing I hear as I’m making my way out of the townhouse is his sexy laugh.

Once I’m outside, I walk a couple of blocks over so I’m not standing right in front of his house and try to figure out where I am. It doesn’t take me long to realize that I’m over by the high school. I send another text to Beth letting her know to meet me there and start walking. Rock Falls is a pretty small town. I say pretty because it’s small enough to always know where you are, but still big enough that you don’t know every single person who grew up here; most, but not all. I’ve lived in Rock Falls my entire life and I love it. It is a picturesque town on the coast of British Columbia. It’s covered in tall, green forests and stunning lakes. People come from all over to ski and snowboard our mountains in the winter and bike them in the summer. My parents, Oliver and Anna, met here. When they got married, they decided that it would be the perfect place to raise their family, and it is.

I’m mulling over my thoughts when I see Beth’s blue Mazda, complete with four-leaf clover stickers and tire chains, pull into the parking lot. I quickly rip open the car door and climb inside, rubbing my hands together and blowing on them. It’s bloody cold in Rock Falls in January. I’m warming up nicely, when I can feel Beth staring at me.

“What?” I snap. I’m tired and embarrassed and I just want to climb into my own bed.

“Don’t you dare snap at me, Hannah Lynn Rhodes. I just dragged my ass out of a warm bed to come pick you up! And what kind of text is that anyway? ’I’ll let you know where to meet me...’” She does what I imagine is supposed to be a mimic of my voice and continues on. “That’s a grade-A bullshit text and you know it. You scared the crap out of me!” She’s arching her perfectly plucked, perfectly pissed-off blond eyebrow at me.

My sister is gorgeous, but aside from our green eyes, we don’t look much alike. Her hair is wavy like mine, but hers is blond and cut off at the shoulders in a stylish bob. She’s shorter than I am, standing at no more than five foot four, and where I am curvy with a big chest, she’s petite and dainty. Differences aside, we both share an unhealthy obsession with action movies and can string together cursing combos that would make a sailor blush, but I think that’s a family trait.

She’s glaring at me because I still haven’t answered. There’s no way around it. Beth’s nosy as hell and she’ll drag it out of me eventually, so I give in and tell her.

“I may or may not have had a one night stand. And I may or may not have gotten caught attempting to sneak out at the break of day.”

All the anger leaves her in an instant and she squeals clapping her hands together. Beth loves good gossip. “Oh my God, Hannah Banana, you are such a little skank! Now tell me everything, I want all the dirty details.”

“There’s no dirty details to tell Beth. I don’t remember anything.”

“Nothing?” she says, her eyes wide.

“Not a damn thing. The last thing I remember is doing my umpteenth tequila shot at the bar with Lennon.” Speaking of which, where the hell is my best friend? I can’t believe she let me saunter my drunk ass off with
him.

“Well that just makes this a whole lot juicier! She hasn’t come home yet either,” my sister says, pulling into our driveway.

Lennon, Beth, and I have shared a three-bedroom condo on Alpha Lake for the last three years. We’d never be able to afford it on our own, but when our grandmother passed away, she left us an inheritance. Beth and I pooled ours together and used it to buy the condo; Lennon rents a room from us.

“Can you go unlock the door and open the garage? I left the opener inside when I came to get you.”

“Fuck!” I scream and slam my hands down on the dashboard.