Sliding Home (6 page)

No more beeping.

She inhaled a ragged breath.

Exhaled Mick Jakes out of her life.

She never wanted to hear from him again.

The trailer would help heal her.

No way was Kason putting her out on the street.

“Temper, temper.”

Speak of the devil.
His voice hit her from behind, low and menacing. Her heart kicked so
hard, she swore she broke a rib. How had Kason gotten inside? She turned so
slowly, and time seemed to stand still.

There he stood, big, broad, and black-eyed.

“Bathroom window,” he said, answering her unspoken question.

The same way she'd snuck inside when she'd taken over the mobile home.

Cimarron moved halfway between them, not taking either's side. Dog was
diplomatic.

She stared at Kason. His eye was red, the rim darkly bruised. Concern
took hold. “Were you in a fight?”

“Minor confrontation, nothing serious,” he stated.

She shook her head. “Fists first thing in the morning—very manly.” She
took a step toward him. “You need frozen peas on that eye.”

One brow rose and his good eye narrowed. He seemed surprised she would
help him. Without a cold press, the lid would soon swell shut.

She kept plenty of space between them as she edged near the kitchen
counter to reach the refrigerator. Then, swinging open the frozen food door,
she removed a big bag of peas and tossed it to him.

“Thanks.” Kason pressed the bag to his eye. He shifted his gaze to the
floor and the destroyed cell phone. “Some stomp. Care to explain?”

She scooped up the phone, dumped it in the trash. Then she shook her
head. “No more than you want to detail your fight. It's personal.”

“You're in my trailer,” he reminded her. “If something bad is about to
go down, I'd like advance warning. Pissed-off boyfriend? Angry husband?”

“No involvements.” Which was the truth.

“You wanted by the cops?”

“I could ask you the same.” She could picture him behind bars in an
orange jumpsuit. He was already bald.

“I'm law abiding,” he told her.

“You're out to steal my trailer.”

He ran one hand down his face. “You're one dense woman. I'm tired of
explaining myself. It's time to toss your ass.”

“My ass isn't ready to be tossed.”

“Your ass has no say in the matter.”

She stood her ground. “You're mad about the change in locks.”

“I damn sure am. That, and the fact you kidnapped my dog.”

“I'd have eventually returned Cimarron.”

He flipped the bag of peas, placed the colder side over his eye. “You
have to go.”

“I can't...” She desperately needed to stay. “A coin toss for the
trailer. Your call—heads or tails?”

His neck and shoulder muscles tightened.

“Rock, paper, scissors?” she asked hopefully.

He snarled, “Get real.”

“Thumb war?”

He held up his thumb, which was twice the size of her own. She wouldn't
stand a chance.

“Monopoly? Scrabble? Winner takes all.”

His lips flattened against his teeth. “I don't do board games.”

She jammed her fingers in her hair, clutched her skull in frustration.
He made her want to pull her hair out. “What do you do?” she hissed.

He took his sweet time replying. His one-eyed stare was direct, serious,
sharp as he debated their dilemma. She crossed her arms over her chest in a
protective gesture. The man gave her goose bumps.

His mind made up, he tossed the bag of peas onto the counter. The
vegetables were fully defrosted from his body heat. Male arrogance set his
shoulders, the shift in his stance supported by thick thighs. His words hit her
belly low.

“Sex settles my arguments with most women.” One corner of his mouth
lifted, stopping short of a smile. “Whoever ends up on top wins.”

Sex.
The air thickened with his suggestion.

His brown eyes ran over her body, holding on her breasts until her
nipples puckered; then his stare slid even lower. His gaze tangled with the
ties on her sweatpants. Her V-zone warmed.

Sexual intimidation. Was he out to scare her? Or was he trying to turn
her on? Whatever his intention, she wasn't riding his thighs. “Sex is to your
advantage. You're stronger than me. One flip, and I'm flat on my back.”

He shook his head. “Not necessarily so. Strength means little in sex. A
woman could kill a man with a slow ride. The trailer could be yours in thirty
minutes.”

A naked half hour with this man would strip her of common sense. She
knew without a doubt he'd be in total control.

She wouldn't stand a chance against him. She'd start on top and end up
missionary. His weight would hold her to the mattress. He'd dominate her
orgasm.

The visual image was all too real. A blush threatened. She'd never dealt
with a man as physical as Kason. He was all testosterone.

He also disliked her. His
true
desire was to kick her to
the curb. “No sex.”

“No trailer.”

Stalemate. Dayne's mind went blank. She had no alternative plan. The man
was a ticking time bomb.

Cimarron's sudden whining drew her to the couch. The big dog lay on his
belly, pawing the worn shag carpet. Cim swiped his front paw near the short
wooden leg in an attempt to retrieve something.

“What's under there, boy?” Curious, Dayne moved to the sofa and dropped
to her knees. She lifted the leg, and the world according to Cimarron came
clear.

Six toys resided beneath the couch. Cim sniffed out his favorite: a
ten-inch wooden butcher's bone, heavily teeth-marked. Once it was retrieved,
the dog turned toward Kason, his stubby tail wagging as he showed off his
prize.

“So that's where you hid it.” Kason patted Cimarron's head. “Good score,
buddy.”

Dayne's hand shook as she looked beyond the dust and slowly took in the
remaining dog toys, all well chewed. The roped legs of a plaid octopus were nearly
shredded. Two tennis balls had been bitten in half.

Cob webbed in one corner, a dirty pair of men's socks, a gnawed leather
belt, and a jock strap had also gone missing. A torn scrap of paper from an
electric bill showed Kason's first name, amount to be paid, and the date
issued.

January 16.

The snowstorm had driven her down the road in February.

Realization stalled her breath and she grew lightheaded. The items
beneath the couch were
old,
used, and proved Kason had lived in the double-wide
long before her arrival. She'd trespassed in her takeover.

“You need to vacuum,” was all she could manage as she lowered the sofa
and died a slow death.

“Cim likes to chase dust bunnies.” Kason's voice was barely audible over
the onslaught of her headache.

The pounding at her temples forced her to press her palms against her
eyes and push back the pain. Loose strands of hair swept her cheeks, hiding her
face from him.

“How long have you lived here?” She kept her head low.

“Nine months, off and on.”

“I showed up when you were off.”

“I spent six weeks out of town.”

“And I took over your trailer.”

“I tried to tell you.” His tone was even, direct.

She tucked her hair behind her ears, cut him a glance. “But I wouldn't
listen.”

“You're stubborn to a fault.”

In this case she had been. She'd needed to escape her past for a short
time and regroup. The forsaken trailer had provided a safety net.

Kason's ownership pedaled her down the road.

She eased to her feet, in need of an aspirin. “I'm hungry,” she stated.
She thought better on a full stomach.

His lip curled. “You've worked up quite an appetite hanging curtains,
changing locks, kidnapping my dog, and smashing your cell phone.”

“All in a day's work.”

“Add packing and moving to your work list.”

She brushed passed him, her chin in the air. “It's at the bottom of my
to-dos.”

Kason Rhodes studied Dayne closely. She should have looked dejected,
even frightened, yet determination squared her shoulders as she went about
fixing dinner.

“Breathe in; breathe out; move on.” The softly spoken mantra seemed to
center her.

“You sharing food?” he asked as she opened a family-sized bottle of
Tylenol and tapped out two tablets.

“Is the guest room open for another night?” She downed the medicine with
a glass of water.

“Depends on what you're cooking.”

“Macaroni and cheese.”

A boyhood favorite. He scruffed his knuckles over his jaw. “I'll give it
some thought.”

“Decide before you eat.”

His gaze hit on her belly as she stretched to retrieve an enormous box
of mac and cheese from the top shelf in the cupboard. Her stomach was flat and
tight, her navel now pierced with a tiny pink butterfly. He was disappointed
when the white Alice Cooper tank top again settled over her sweats. Tomboy had
a thing for rockers.

Resting one hip against the counter, he crossed his arms over his chest
and contemplated how best to get his share without committing to another
sleepover.

While the noodles boiled, Dayne heated the defrosted peas. She then went
on to make dessert, a batch of butterscotch pudding.

Kason wasn't much of a sweet eater, but pudding took him back to the one
good memory of his childhood. To the time he lived with his great-uncle Dave.

Dave had been a man of habit. He'd made the same dessert every Sunday
for the two years Kason had lived with him. When Dave had worked overtime,
they'd splurged and topped the pudding with whipped cream.

Kason remained standing until Dayne finished cooking. He felt a
heartbeat of relief when she withdrew two paper plates from a packet of five
hundred and piled each with dinner.

His relief was short-lived.

“Cimarron,” she called to the Dobie.

Cim left his butcher bone and went to her.

Kason stood, immobile and disbelieving, as Dayne set
his
dinner before his dog. Cimarron wolfed the macaroni and cheese in two
big gulps. Son of a bitch.

“Seconds?” she asked Cimarron.

“He's full,” Kason stated.

“Maybe Cim would like some peas.”

“Not his favorite,” said Kason. “He spits them like a peashooter.”

“More for me.” She poured the peas into a large plastic bowl.

Kason wasn't a big fan of peas, but when a man was hungry, food was
food. He'd yet to pick up his own groceries. He had no desire to drive to the
restaurant at Tri-Corners. “What about me?”

“You eat, I sleep.” Tomboy played hardball.

Another night in his trailer? What the hell? Macaroni and cheese and
butterscotch pudding mellowed his mood. “Agreed.”

Visible relief softened her features. She looked almost pretty. Until
she scrunched up her nose, jabbed the bowl of peas into his chest, and
commanded, “Make yourself useful.” Kason carried the bowl to the table.

At the counter, Dayne divided the remainder of the mac and cheese
between them, then went as far as to give him the bigger portion of
butterscotch pudding. Bribery was good. He might let Cimarron sleep on her bed
again tonight.