Frayed Rope (The Ugly Roses Book 1) Page 7

  His eyes are still glued to my legs before they slowly make their way back up.

  I begin ogling the tattoos on his arms; I consider the tribal art on his body beautiful. The lines are clean, the detail in them exceptional from what I can see from five feet away. I would love to read what's written amongst the beautiful designs but I’m not willing to get that close to him yet.

  The silence has grown long so I glance up to his face and notice him staring at my chest.

  Typical man!

  Or maybe it’s my neck. Shit!

  I grab the top of my robe and pull it tighter around me before I speak.

  “Maybe some other time. Thanks though.”

  My voice is weak. Ryder seeing marks on my body makes me feel a kind of vulnerability that I don’t like and am completely unfamiliar with.

  I reach over to close the main door, since he can see all of me through the screen one. Norma tries to push it open to head out to the porch.

  “Norm, inside. Now.” He holds the door for her while she mopes back into the house and I resume closing up.

  “Sure Elle. Maybe some other time.” he says with an edge to his tone.

  Either he’s genuinely upset I said no, or he did get a good look at the marks on my body. Either way I breathe out a sigh of relief once I get the door shut.

  Chapter Seven

  “SHIT!”

  I fall to the sand on my hands and knees and roll over onto my ass, grasping my leg. I’ve pushed myself too hard this morning and now I’m paying for it.

  I haven’t gotten much sleep the past few days. Ryder’s bonfire the other night seemed to turn into a whole weekend booze fest. Judging by the man hugs I witnessed from afar the next day, I’d say his friends are happy that he’s home.

  The happiest of all would most likely be the trio of whores that showed up yesterday with their tits overflowing out of their halter-tops, and asscheeks on display for all to see. It must have been a warm welcome home for him.

  The silver lining for me was that most of the women seemed to be permanently attached to a few of the other men hanging around, and other than a ginger haired looking hooker who followed him around like a lost puppy, I didn’t witness any dry humping or naked body parts.

  Not that I should care.

  I tell myself that this must be some kind of attraction by proximity. That’s the only thing I can think to call it. Ryder is the first man that has entered my life in the past year that I’ve been attracted to and now he’s got some kind of hold on me.

  I hate to admit that it intrigues me because my libido has been virtually nonexistent for what feels like a century, it also frightens me because all I can think is ‘why him?’

  Perhaps it’s because not only is he attractive, but he also seems kind and incredibly intelligent. It’s not often a woman finds all those qualities in the same man.

  I assess my left leg and note the tenderness from knee to ankle. This is what you get when you’re sexually frustrated therefore you try to burn off your pent up energy by pushing yourself too hard. Combine that with lack of sleep and it’s a recipe for disaster.

  I ease up from the ground so I can walk the rest of the way to the house. I barely make it into a standing position before I give up.

  “Aaaarrrgghhhh, fuck!”

  I wail as the pain shoots through my leg. I sit my ass back down to rest for a minute. I’m not far. I can see Ryder’s house from where I’m sitting. I’ll rest for a little while and then crawl my ass back if I have to.

  I lie back on the sand and close my eyes, taking in a few deep breaths while stretching out my leg. It feels like if I push it out all the way, a rubber band will snap. I stare up at the sky for a while, watching the dark clouds slowly move towards my location on the beach before I hear footsteps and a familiar shadow looms overhead.

  “You alright?”

  Ryder’s deep voice washes over me. Shit. It’s eight in the morning and a quiet Sunday morning, he’s not in jogging gear so that means he probably heard me wail when I tried to stand up.

  “Fucking peachy neighbor.”

  I say in my most sarcastic voice. Surely he notices the expression of pain on my face, and my arms around my leg. He moves in front of me and bends down to a squat.

  He begins reaching out for my bum leg and I’m going to boot him with my good one if he touches it.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I spent some time in the service as a medic.”

  Of course he fucking did. My pissy mood assumes he also fixes random broken down cars on the freeway, rescues wildlife on the weekends, and probably volunteers his spare time at his nans nursing home.

  Bastard.

  “I won’t tell you I’m a doctor, that was a long time ago. But let me see if I can help you out.”

  He goes to remove my shoe, I wonder why until I notice the cankle that has developed. My leg is swelling so fast I now have proof as to why my ankle sock feels so tight.

  Strong looking hands remove my shoe and then he moves them towards my calf.

  “Neighbor, you touch that fucking leg you’re going to know what the other one feels like planted up your ass!”

  I hiss through clenched teeth.

  It fucking hurts. Not a lot hurts me anymore but Jesus Christ this doesn’t tickle. He removes his hat and scrubs a hand down his face before settling those angry blacks on me.

  “Tell you what, Elle. You have two options. Fucking sit here, or let me help you back to your house. It’s going to storm soon and I’m looking forward to spending the day on my couch, in peace after all the company that came here over the weekend. So, you want to sit here in a storm? Or do you want me to get you home?”

  He already knows the answer, so do I. I’m a grown woman and, pride set aside, crawling home proves nothing right now other than the fact that it would make me look like an idiot.

  I give him the go ahead with a nod and notice him staring at my neck again. It’s not hideous anymore, but purplish colored marks still mar the side of it.

  I always figured if anyone asked I could say it was from a seat belt in a car accident. But in light of what happened to my family that would make me feel like an ungrateful lying bitch. I don’t bother to explain and Ryder does not bother to ask.

  He moves to my side and puts one arm around my back and one under my legs before lifting. An ugly grunt sounds through my gritted teeth at the shock of pain that runs through my leg. I wasn’t expecting the bridal carry, but damn if I can walk on one leg and use him as a human crutch.

  “Sorry.” He says as he stands up.

  His morning scruff is in front of my face. He smells freshly showered so I’m assuming he chose to bypass the shaving part. Not that I mind. Its suits him unlike a clean face ever would. He takes a deep breath that I assume is from exertion, but quickly realize he’s inhaling my hair that is it’s usual untamed birds nest atop my head with wisps flying in every which direction.

  I reach my hand up to smooth my hair back from blowing in his face.

  “Coconut.” he says.

  I don’t answer or play dumb because I know what he’s referring to. I simply hold onto his arms and try to stare at the water instead of his extremely handsome face. It’s times like this when I miss my old self.

  The old me.

  Jayne.

  She wouldn’t think twice about kissing him right now, flirting back, or making the first move.

  She’d dive in head first, going after what she wanted and not looking back.

  Unfortunately Elle Davidson has too many telling marks on her body, so she needs to stay under the radar for as long as possible instead of shedding her clothes with good looking man next door.

  We reach my deck and he carries me up the steps. Norm is wagging her tail with her lips curled up in that sweet smile that only dogs can do.

  “Hold on.” his whiskey voice says from above me. I reach my arms around his wide shoulders and do as he says.

  He moves h
is arm away from my back and I reach up to put my arms around his neck so I don't fall. He uses his free hand to pull the screen door open and carries me into the house. I loosen my arms and he squeezes me tighter as he leans down to deposit me on the sofa.

  He lingers for a moment, not in a creepy way. In a way that if I were more open he would no doubt be following me down on said couch right now. Reluctantly he slowly releases his arms from their hold and stands.

  “I’ll get you some ice.”

  He turns away from me and heads towards the kitchen.

  “Any zip lock bags?”

  Those black eyes staring back at me from the other side of the island are wreaking havoc on my womanhood.

  “To your right, second drawer from the top.”

  He busies himself in the freezer and comes back with the ice filled bag wrapped in a dishtowel. His hands move toward my foot to remove my shoe again. The marks left on my ankles aren’t nearly as bad as my wrists, barely noticeable and with the grey sky and lack of lights on in the house I doubt he’ll notice.

  My shoe comes off, followed by my sock. I’d object to his help but the thought of leaning forward to ice my own ankle and calf, let alone getting the damn shoe off is painful to even think about.

  “I’d suggest seeing a Doctor to get it x-rayed and wrapped, but I have a feeling you would decline.”

  He draws his eyes up from my foot to look at me.

  I regard him with what I hope is a sincere look before I reply.

  “We both know nothings broken. And aside from pain medication that I would refuse to take, I’m sure it’s nothing that a few days of rest won’t cure.”

  “Your probably right Elle, but it should still be wrapped up so you don't strain the muscles any more than you need to. I have some at my house I can grab for you.”

  I cut him off before he can leave. If he leaves, I don't know if I’ll let him back in the house.

  “I have some in the closet in my bathroom no worries. I need a shower anyway so, two birds with one stone.”

  His eyes turn dark and I now realize he may have taken that the wrong way.

  “Thank you for the help.” I quickly cut off his wayward thoughts.

  “Woman, you can’t walk, how do you suppose you’re going to make it to the bathroom?”

  He has a good point. Although I’m not about to let him bathe me. As tempting as that sounds.

  “Tell you what, I’ll carry you to the bathroom and you can see how well you make out from there. Not that I’m declining any offer to help you.”

  Fuck, do I want him to.

  He lifts me back up with ease and heads toward the hallway.

  “First door on the left please.”

  I start to say but he’s already reached for the handle.

  “May was like a second mother to me, so I’ve been in the bathroom here before.”

  He answers my unasked question. It’s the first mention of Tom’s late wife. I can relate to the sense of longing in his voice in regards to losing someone close to you. His deep voice brings me out of my head.

  “Although I have to say, it didn't look like this when she lived here. I guess you could say she preferred the brighter colors.”

  He’s referring to the new slate grey walls and dark vanity I installed. More modern, not that I needed it but if I don't keep busy my mind takes over.

  “Yes, I guess I spruced it up a little. Or drabbed it down, however you want to look at it.”

  His deep chuckle vibrates through my body as he sets me down on the edge of the tub. His face is less than a foot from mine as he reaches down to remove my other shoe.

  My black painted toenails stand out against the white tiled floor as he sets my foot down. He lifts his head to look into my eyes and the heat in them does not go unnoticed. He truly is one of the most beautiful men I have ever seen.

  This close to him I can make out a few faint small scars around his hairline, and one on the lower portion of his jaw. A warm hand squeezes my thigh before he breaks the silence.

  “I’ll be back in twenty. I have some salve for muscle aches that should numb up your leg for a while.”

  He gives me one last look before he stands and leaves the bathroom. I say nothing as he closes the door. The attraction spoke for itself, and I am nowhere near ready to acknowledge it.

  Chapter Eight

  Showering was a circus act. My balancing on one leg limited what got washed, so aside from conditioning the birds nest and only soaping what my hands could reach without bending over was the extent of the task.

  After I’ve dried off, unsuccessfully, I throw on my robe and use the doorframe for balance so I can cross the hall to the laundry room. I know there's a clean pair of loose yoga pants and a few tanks in the dryer.

  “Hold on, Elle”

  I shriek at the sound of his voice, since I’m pretty fucking certain it hasn’t been twenty minutes.

  “Cocksucker you startled me!”

  I take a deep breath while balancing in the hallway.

  “I told you I’d be back. Maybe I should have brought some soap for that filthy mouth of yours?”

  He doesn't say it like he’s offended. No, he says it in a deep bedroom voice that suggests he’d really like to know what else I can do with said mouth.

  A lot, I think to myself.

  “Just caught me off guard.”

  I say a little more breathy then intended.

  His long legs move towards me as he wraps an arm under my shoulders to help support my weight.

  “Laundry room?”

  He starts leading me that way after I nod. He’s changed into a long sleeve Henley most likely because I’d soiled his other shirt with sand and sweat when he carried me home.

  “Thanks.”

  I manage to say as I close the door behind me and rest my forehead against it.

  Fuck, I hate this. I’ve never been the shy girl, hell I’m still not. A year ago he would have been in the shower with me, and I wouldn’t be searching the dryer for clothes twenty minutes later. Or at least I hope not. I think he can handle more than twenty minutes, hell he can probably handle hours judging by the build of his muscular body.

  I throw on a white racer back tank and my yoga pants, all the while trying not to whimper too loud at the strain from trying to get my legs through the pants. There are no bras in here so I tie my robe back on over top and open the door to head back towards the living room.

  He’s standing in the hall waiting for me and once again leans down to lift me up. He carries me back to the sofa where he deposits me once again before doubling back towards the hallway.

  “Where are you going?” I can’t help but ask.

  Before I get my answer he’s coming my way with a pillow from my bedroom, and a towel from the bathroom. I guess he likes to help himself.

  He gently lifts my leg and places the pillow underneath it with the towel on top.

  “You need to keep it elevated. And I’m pretty sure you don't want any of the muscle salve on your pillow.”

  Attractive and thoughtful. Also, two qualities you rarely find in the same man. Shit, he’s going to be the end of me.

  His fingers lightly run down my ankle and off my foot. It’s insane to think that that simple touch is practically my undoing, but when you haven’t had physical contact with another human being for over a year, apparently it doesn’t take much.

  He’s lifts the pillow along with my leg and settles it on his lap. Salve in hand, he opens the lid and fingers a good portion of it before setting it down beside him and moving his hands toward my leg.

  I hiss at the first contact of his fingers with my ankle but he smoothes it out with a gentle rhythmic pattern with his hands. I’m tempted to close my eyes and revel in the feel of him touching me, but I don’t want to relax myself that much around him yet.

  I’m still wary around people, especially those of the opposite sex.

  I didn’t do much in terms of relationships after my fa
mily was taken from me, but I did have the odd random hook up for casual sex.

  Nothing meaningful, nothing memorable.

  Nothing that came close to how I feel right now, this close to him on the couch and just a simple touch. Only his hands touching a part of my body that is not even considered an erogenous zone.