Serendipity (10 page)

I drive down the dirt road and pull into the back of our field, passed the barn and stable and out into the open land where there is nothing for miles except wildlife.

“Where are we?” she asks, looking all around.

“You wanted a tour of the grounds so I’m starting back here.” I push open my door and walk around to help her out of the truck.

I set her on her feet gently and close the door behind her. I don’t even bother looking back as I walk ahead of her and call over my shoulder just before she’s out of earshot. “Watch out for snakes,” I smirk.

“
What?!
” I screech. There was no way I was going anywhere near snakes! Couldn’t he have warned me about this ahead of time? I turn and stomp back to the truck. I wanted to get out of the house but if snakes are going to be a factor, then no thank you!

“Can you help me into the truck please?” I shout to Dean, but he keeps walking and ignores me.

I huff and stomp after him, shouting his name but he doesn’t respond. I brush the tall grass aside and pick up my speed to catch up with him. I ignore the aches in my body and focus at the task at hand—getting this asshole to help me in the truck, and take me back to the house.

I’ve almost caught up to him when I hear something in the grass to my left. I look around to see if I can spot anything but my vision is blocked by tall weeds. My heart rate picks up and I freeze where I stand.

“Dean!” I scream, but he doesn’t turn around. He starts walking into a clearing from the tall grass. The sun beats down, making the sweat glisten on his tan body and the muscles in his back flex as he shifts. His tight jeans curve around his perfect ass and legs. It’s been a very long time since I’ve been with a man. Hell, it’s been a long time since I’ve even been turned on by a man.

I almost forget about what I’m supposed to be doing until I feel something brush against my ankle.

I scream at the top of my lungs and do a dance with my feet—hopping from one foot to the other. Running back to the truck I pull open the door and slide in head first, my legs hanging out.

I kick my feet frantically—if there is anything on me, it won’t be there for long. I rest my injured hand on the center console in front of me. Something bushes against my ankle again, sending me into another fit of screams.

What the fuck?

I look over my shoulder and see a shirtless Dean chuckling. I give him a confused look but then he holds up a long piece of grass, a proud smile across his face.

Using my good arm, I pull myself up into the seat and maneuver so that I’m sitting up. I pant, trying to catch my breath. I’m sore as hell and drained already. When I finally manage to calm myself, I glare at the prick.

“You asshole,” I take a swipe in his direction, but he moves out of the way. “How dare you?” I growl.

“Lighten up, Barbie, can’t you take a joke?” He shrugs.

I’m about to rip him a new asshole when I pause. “What did you call me?” he says with a satisfied smirk.

He looks down at the ground and says something under his breath before looking back up to me.

“What the fuck did you call me?” I growl out.

He sighs, and throws his hands onto his hips. He looks around and then back at me. “I called you Barbie.”

“Why would you call me
Barbie
? My name is Phoebe, prick!” I reach over and try to shut the door but my limbs are too sore. I sigh and cross my arms over my chest. I hate being limited in the things I can do. This is not me. I’m Phoebe Andrews, Miss Independent.

He adjusts his ball cap and watches me struggle before reaching above his head and stretches.

I lick my suddenly-dry lips and try to pull my eyes away from his chest but it’s no use. The bastard knows exactly what he’s doing. Well, two can play this game.

“Why is it that you think I call you Barbie?” he asks.

I’m not stupid. I know exactly why he’s calling me Barbie. It’s like I never heard people call me Barbie in school. Granted it was just the jealous girls but none the less, it still hurts. Sure, I resemble her with the long blonde hair and blue eyes but that’s it. My body, I have to work for. My money, I have to work for. Things were never handed to me, and I wish that people would just
realize that if you want something bad enough, you have to work hard.

I narrow my eyes before turning away. The last thing I want—or need—is this assholes opinion of me. Seven days, just seven more days and I’ll never have to see him again.

He closes the door when I don’t say anything, and gets into the truck. We drive back to the house without a word spoken between us. When he pulls up the gravel drive, I attempt to get out before he even puts the truck in park. “Wait,” he rests his hand on my thigh and chills run though my body.

Chills? My body has never betrayed me like this before.

I look up to meet his gaze and something shifts in the air between us. I swallow past the lump in my throat and focus on his touch. I thought I was turned on while watching him in the field but as hands glide over my bare skin, I realize that was nothing. Heat pools between my legs and I clench my thighs together.

Why does he have this effect on me? I’m not exactly inexperienced when it comes to men but I’ve never had this kind of reaction to such simple contact.

Without warning, he quickly pulls his hand away as if he’s been burned. “We need to get inside. Mom’s going to have lunch ready in a few minutes.” Turning off the truck, he hops out and closes the door behind him without looking back.

He’s not going to help me out? I’ll fall if I try to get out myself and I can feel my pain medication wearing off. The aches and pains are making it damn near impossible to even move.

I wait in the truck and it doesn’t take long for the rays from the hot sun to heat it up. I reach over and honk the horn. When nobody comes out, I lean on it. There, that is bound to get someone’s attention.

I walk into the kitchen. My dad doesn’t look up from the paper, but my mom smiles to greet me, “Back so soon?”

“Yeah, Phoebe wasn’t feeling well so we left,” I shrug and walk into my ‘bedroom’.

My mom rushes to me and catches me by my elbow. “What do you mean she isn’t feeling well? Is she okay?”

I shrug, “I guess so. She fell asleep on the way here so I left her in the truck.”

My dad peeks his head around the corner. “Dean, you better be joking. It’s hot as sin out there and you left that poor girl in the truck?! That thing will be like a sauna in a matter of minutes!”

Oh fuck, I’m in trouble.

I quickly move around my mom. “I’ll go bring her in.”

I don’t need to look at them to know that they are pissed. Before I reach the back door I hear the horn. I turn back to look at my parents and they narrow their eyes at me. They look like they want to say something but not much can be heard over the sound of the horn.

“I’m going, I’m going.” Oh shit, I’m really fucked. What was supposed to be a joke, turned into me getting my ass chewed out by my parents?

I walk out of the house with a sly grin on my face, but it quickly fades when I reach the truck and look in. Barbie doesn’t look happy. I open the door and she growls at me. I try to speak but forget how when I see that she’s bunched the front of her tank top and tied it in a knot just under her perfect tits.

Fuck me!

I stare at her chest, proudly on display in her low cut top. Yep, I need to get laid. Thankfully in less than ten hours, I will be scratching the itch and hopefully I’ll be good until Barbie leaves.

“See something you like?” she asks, throwing my earlier words back at me.

I don’t even try to hide it. I nod, not taking my eyes off of her perfect body. I cringe when I see a bruise on her hip, just above her shorts.

I look at her apologetically and gesture to the bruise. “I’m sorry.”

She doesn’t respond, shifting in the seat and waits for me to lift her out. When I do, I set her on the ground in front of me and let my fingers graze over her warm, soft skin. Her toned abs tense when my fingers slide up and rest just under her breasts.

I stare into her eyes and I’m lost. They pull me in like an undertow, and I drown in her gaze.

Our moment is broken when my phone alerts me to a new message. I ignore it and pull away. “Lunch is ready.” I turn and walk away, leaving her in the same spot.

When I get to the door, I turn and wait to make sure she’s following. As she rounds the truck, she unties her shirt and pulls it up to wipe the sweat from her face and revealing the bottom half of her bra. She knows exactly what she’s doing so I turn away quickly so she doesn’t realize that she’s getting to me. The last thing I want is for her to have that kind of satisfaction.

When we get into the house, I excuse myself and run up the stairs to the bathroom. I sit on the edge of the tub and rest my face in my hands. I think of anything and everything to get my mind off of Barbie.

Dead puppies, dead puppies
. I chant over and over to myself, until I’m able to return downstairs without alerting everyone to my raging hard-on.

I splash cold water on my face and cool down before I have to face the wrath my mom is about to unleash on my ass.

When I make it to the bottom step, I look to the table that is directly in front of me. My dad is already seated, with Barbie next to him. My mom fills their glasses with lemonade and laughs when Barbie says something.

I grab a light t-shirt from my temporary room and throw it on before taking a seat at the table.

“Dean, I thought you said Phoebe wasn’t feeling well?” My mom asks.

I look at Barbie and silently plead for her not to rat me out. “Yeah, I think the heat was just too much for her. I didn’t want her to get sun stroke so I brought her home.”

“Actually, I was fine until something brushed against my leg. Dean told me there were snakes out there and I of course thought the worst.” She pauses and lets out a dramatic sigh before continuing. “He was way ahead of me so I ran back to the truck. I had to wait almost five minutes for him to walk back. It was so hot out there that I almost melted.” She fans herself in a performance worthy of an Oscar.

I narrow my eyes at her, and the moment we had outside is forgotten. I thought she’d play nice, but it’s apparent that’s not going to happen.

“Dean Michael, why wouldn’t you walk with Phoebe? She was in an accident less than two days ago and she could have gotten hurt out there by herself,” my mom scolds.

“Mom, she’s exaggerating. I was at the truck seconds after she launched herself into the seat.”

This time it was Barbie who narrows her eyes at me. She purses her lips and I can tell that she’s preparing to fight back but my mom responds before she can.

“Well I hope you didn’t hurt yourself, Phoebe?” my mom asks.

My dad speaks up after he watches the battle going on between me and Barbie.

“Maybe you should rest after lunch, dear.” He suggests.

What is it with my parents treating this girl as if she can walk on water? My mom I get, because she’s like this with everyone. She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. My dad however, he’s a different story. I’ve never seen him like this with
anyone
.

“I think I will. The truck got a little hot while I was waiting for Dean to help me out.” She adds.