Not Your Hero
NOT YOUR
HERO
by ANNA BROOKS
Not Your Hero
Copyright © 2015 Anna Brooks
Published by Anna Brooks
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All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form without written permission except for the use of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.
Table of Contents
Other Books by Anna Brooks
Make Me Forget
Dedication
To all the single mothers who I’ve had the pleasure of knowing.
And to the ones I haven’t met. I admire your strength.
1
Sam
“YOU SURE YOU DON’T wanna come with us?” Nate, my one and only employee, asks.
I shake my head. “Nah, man.”
“Come on, Sam. You never hang out. It’s one night.”
He hops up on the bed of the truck where I’m reorganizing my tools. I don’t have an actual job title. Handyman, I guess. I fix shit. Clocks, bikes, broken chairs—anything really. If it’s too big to move, I go to their homes. I repair fences, sinks, and anything in between.
“It’s my bachelor party. Lots of titties. Maybe you can pick up a chick and get laid.”
A small smile pulls at my lips—because really, I don’t need help in that department—but I quickly replace it with my ever-present scowl. “I don’t need to go to a strip club to get laid. Go. Have fun.” I give him a shove, and he jumps down.
When he reaches his Jeep, he stands on the running board and glares at me over the hood. “Ya know? One of these days, you’re gonna stop being such a prick and actually enjoy your life. I’ve worked for you for six years, Sam. Not sure how much longer I can put up with your shit.” And with that, he slams his door and peels out.
He’s right. No longer the sixteen-year-old I hired because he reminded me of myself, Nate’s a man now. He’ll be a dad soon, too, making something of his life. And I’m happy for him, but that life isn’t for me.
My home and business are the two things that mean something to me. My grandparents handed the house down to me. It’s actually a duplex, and when they passed away a few years ago, I didn’t know what to do with the extra space they lived in. I felt weird going in their side of the house without them, so I left it empty for a while. About four months ago, I decided to put an ad out to rent the place.
“Hi, Sam.”
I look down to see my little neighbor, Ben, waving with a baseball glove in his hand. His mom, Courtney, answered my ad for a tenant.
My business is based out of the garage, so Courtney has to park in the street, but she didn’t seem deterred by that at all. She was just excited to have a backyard to let her rambunctious five-year-old run around.
“How was school today?” I get off the truck bed and slam the hatch closed.
“All right.” He kicks his feet in the dirt and watches the dust fly.
“Why just all right?”
“I hate kindergarten. Mommy says I’m not old enough to go to the park by myself after school with everyone else.” He throws his mitt on the ground and stomps on it.
I get down on my haunches and he looks at me with his innocent green eyes. They look just like his mother’s. “She’s right, little dude. You’re only five.”
“But Tyler’s five, too, and his mom lets him go.”
Ben’s mom, Courtney, appears next to me with her arms crossed tapping her foot. I stand and step back, not wanting to intrude.
“That’s because Tyler has an older brother. Are we having this conversation again? Because I warned you, Benjamin, if we do, you’re losing video games for a week.”
Ben shakes his head.
“Shaking your head is not an answer to my question.”
“No,” he mumbles.
“Good. Now go in the backyard and play with your new baseball.”
“Can you play catch with me?” he asks her, perking up.
I see the hurt cross her face when she answers. “Sorry baby, I have to go to my other job. Mona will be here in ten minutes. I have just enough time to make you some supper.”
Ben’s little lip sticks out in a pout. Courtney blinks her eyes rapidly and looks away from her son. She’s a good mom—wants to be there more—but she works two jobs to support them. But that’s not my problem, right?
“I’ll throw the ball with you for a few minutes.”
Both of their heads whip in my direction, and I mentally kick myself in the ass.
“Are you sure, Sam? I know you’re busy,” Courtney asks.
“Sure. Only a few minutes, though. I’ve gotta get ready for a party.”
Fuck me.
What in the hell am I doing?
Going to Nate’s party just to get out of this shitty situation I put myself in. I don’t get close to people. Especially not a single mom and her kid.
“Yay! Come on, Sam! Let’s go!” Ben grabs my hand, and I walk to the backyard with him.
She’s never mentioned Ben’s dad, so I don’t know the story there. And I don’t care. She pays her rent on time and leaves me alone. Ben, on the other hand, doesn’t. If I’m ever outside, he comes over and tries to help me with whatever I’m working on.
“Do you need a glove?”
“No. I’m all right, buddy.” I actually laugh a little when he bends over, squints his eyes, and raises his leg before throwing the ball. I shake my hand when I catch it. “Ouch. That’s some heat you got there.”
“I know.” He shrugs his shoulders and gets in a catcher’s stance to catch the ball when I toss it back.
After about ten minutes, Courtney yells out the kitchen window. “Time’s up, Ben. Say thank you to Sam and come eat.”
“Aww. Two more minutes, Mom, pleeease?”
She looks at me, asking for approval. I nod, actually having a good time with the kid.
“Two minutes, Ben. When Sam says it’s time to come in, you do it with no argument, understand?”
“Okay! Thanks, Mom!” He laughs and throws the ball so fast I almost miss it.
“Can we do this again? Every day?”
I laugh and toss a pop fly. It lands right next to his foot, but he dives onto it and rolls around before throwing it back. “I don’t know about every day. But I’m sure we can play catch some other time.”
“Cool. Sam?”
“Yeah, buddy?”
“What’s a prick?”
I freeze mid-throw and lower my arm. “Where did you hear that?”
“Your friend. He called you a prick. It doesn’t sound nice.”
Biting the inside of my cheeks, I suppress a laugh. “It wasn’t nice.”
“Okay. So I shouldn’t call Mommy that?”
“No. Don’t call your mom a prick.”
“Okay. Sam?”
Sighing, I answer, “Yeah?”
“Thanks for playing catch with me.”
“Sure, buddy. But I’ve gotta go now.”
“Okay. Bye.”
I watch until he gets in the house and Courtney waves out the window. “Thanks.”
Nodding, I cross the lawn to my place.
I change out of my dirty clothes and hop in the shower to get ready for Nate’s party. He’s been a good employee, and is about the only person in the world who I trust. And I still don’t, really. Trust is a fickle bitch, and it doesn’t come easily for me.
* * *
I went to the bar around the corner from my house for a couple hours before heading to the strip club. There was a hot little blonde number offering her own personal performance, but I decided to show up for Nate’s party instead.
“Holy fucking shit. You came!” Nate stands and staggers over to me, obviously enjoying his last hurrah as a bachelor.
“Yeah.”
When he reaches me, he pulls me in for a hug and pats my back. I awkwardly return the gesture before pushing him off.
“Thanks, Sam. It means a lot that you showed.”
“No problem.” I follow him to the table and flip a chair so I can straddle it.
“Guys, this is Sam.” He introduces me to about ten guys. I nod but forget all their names before they’re even out of Nate’s mouth. I’m not going to be friends with any of them. I don’t have friends. Acquaintances, yes. But friends, they can’t be trusted.
I laugh at some of the guys’ lame jokes and do a couple shots toasting Nate. We watch each of the new acts, and the guys salivate over fake tits and bad dancing. Not really my thing. I prefer more action and less watching.
“Refills, anyone?” I freeze in my chair at that sultry voice. When I turn my head slightly, I see Courtney’s tits covered only by little tassels. My eyes wander up to her almost unrecognizable face adorning a shit ton of make-up. A platinum blond wig has replaced her normal chin-length light brown hair. She hasn’t noticed me yet, and frankly, I don’t want her to.
When it’s my turn to state my order, I lower my head and shake it.
“Dude. You suck. At least do another shot with us,” Nate bellows. “Maybe Misty here will even let you do it off of her tits.” I glare up at him, hoping he takes a hint to shut the fuck up, and he does.
“So, you want a shot or no?” ‘Misty’ asks.
I shake my head, and she leans down so her chest is pressed against my back. “Your friend’s right. I’ll let you take it off my tits. For an extra fifty.” Then she pushes off me and walks away. Fuck if she doesn’t make my dick twitch.
Hell, no.
I don’t need that kind of complication. She’s my tenant, a mom. Even if she screams
great fuck,
with her rounded hips and heavy breasts, I won’t go there. I stand and keep my back toward the bar.
“Congrats, Nate. I gotta go.” I throw some money on the table, walk out without another word, and slam the door to my truck.
Courtney Gallagher is not the type of woman for me. Sure, I’ve watched her from my garage. She’s hot, no doubt about it. But she’s a good woman, and she deserves better. She wouldn’t be an easy lay. And I only do easy. Courtney’s got emotional written all over her. Whenever she’s home, she’s a mom, a great mom, and I’ve never seen a guy over. She works hard and seeing her here tonight is proof of that. It’s also another reason to stay the hell away from her.
Why in the hell am I even thinking about her feelings? I don’t do feelings. Now, a quick fuck with no expectations? Yeah, that I do.
Speaking of which, I pull up to the bar around the corner from my house. I want to see if the blonde who was hanging on me is still here. I need to fuck this tension out.
I walk in and stand by the entrance, scanning the crowded bar. When I spot her on the dance floor, I walk up and pull her against me. She lets out a yelp and turns her head.
“Oh, it’s you. Jesus, you scared me. I thought you left.”
She turns and wraps her arms around my neck.
“I did, but I’m back for you. Wanna get out of here?”
She nods rapidly.
“Good. Follow me.” I smack her ass and nod at James, the bartender. He’s an old man; too old to be bartending at almost one in the morning, but this bar is his pride and joy. I can’t say I blame him. When something is handed down to you, you cherish it.
When we get outside, I wait for her to catch up. We pull up to my house, and she parks behind me, in Courtney’s usual place. I jog to her as she’s stepping out of the car.
