Hammered Read online

  I nod as I let that sink in. Life couldn’t have been easy for her. Always in demand, always faking a smile, even when she didn’t feel like it. “I can understand that.”

  She blinks and looks at me with hopeful eyes, like I might be the only person in her entire life who sees her for her, and not an actress. It pisses me off so much, I swear I could punch something. “You can?”

  “Five years old is pretty young to be on the set.”

  “Tyler, I’ve been acting since I was four months old. Do you remember that old tissue commercial? The one where the baby is pulling them all from the box?”

  “That was you?”

  “That was me. I was practically raised on the set. Rock was with me up until we were pre-teens, until he took up martial arts.”

  “Was that lonely for you? I mean did you have any close friends?”

  “I had my tutor. She was really nice.” When I frown, she hurries out with, “Seriously though, I was used to it. I didn’t know any other way of life.”

  Jesus, she was raised on the set. My life was far from perfect, but hers sounds like a goddamn nightmare you can’t wake up from. I don’t say that. Who am I to judge her life? Instead, I smile at her and say, “You were cute in that commercial.”

  “Hey, what do you mean were?” she says and whacks me again.

  I laugh. “If you want to go fishing, you need a rod and a worm,” I tell her. “But you’ll only catch trout, not compliments.”

  “Hey, I wasn’t fishing,” she says with a laugh.

  I grab her and pull her onto my lap. Her knees press onto the swing on either side of me, and she drops down, her hot core centered on my thickening cock. “For the record, you’re not cute anymore.” She opens her mouth, and I kiss away whatever it was she was going to say. She softens in my arms and I slide my tongue in to taste her, deepening the kiss until we’re both breathless. I inch back, press my forehead to hers and say, “You were cute when you were little, but now you’re beautiful, Haven. You light up a room when you walk into it. I almost had to hammer two brothers and at least one cousin.”

  “Oh please,” she says with a laugh.

  “I’m sure you’re told that all the time, though.”

  She frowns. “People say nice things when they want something from you.”

  “Fuck.” I curse under my breath. I hate her fucking industry and she deserves better than that. “When I tell you you’re beautiful, it’s because I mean it. Lip service comes later, when you’re beneath me in bed, got it?”

  A fine quiver moves through her and she grins at me. “Got it, and for the record,” she gives me a teasing wink. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  I arch a brow and run the rough pad of my thumb over her wrist. “Not so bad? What happened to the biggest, hottest guy in the room?”

  “Right, wasn’t that what I said,” she teases.

  I cup her cheek, and she leans into my hand. “So you really want an apiary.”

  “It’s a pipe dream, Tyler.” I hate the defeat in her voice, the fact that she’s given up before even trying. “How can I possibly have an apiary in my line of work?”

  “I don’t know. All I do know is life is short, and you should go after what you want. Even if you don’t get it, you should still go after it. It’s no fun spending your life wondering what if…”

  She slides off my lap, and stares out into the lake. “You’re not wrong.”

  “Do you still like acting?”

  She frowns. “I don’t know who I am without it, you know.” She casts me a quick glance.

  While that didn’t really answer my question, it does tell me a lot about her. “Maybe you should take some time to find out.”

  “What if…” She shakes her head, and plucks an imaginary piece of lint off her sleeve. “Never mind.”

  “Hey,” I say, in a soft voice, not wanting her to hold any punches with me. “What is it?” She scrunches up her nose, and I get it. It’s not easy to confront your fears, but I want honesty with her. “No judgment, Haven.”

  “I’ve never been this honest with anyone, Tyler. Not even myself. It’s not easy.” Her eyes search mine, and I reach out and smooth my hand down her hair, giving her time to formulate her thoughts. “This might sound strange, but people associate me with a character. That’s how they see me,” she says, her voice tight, like she’s been scraped a little raw inside. “They don’t see me for who I am, and honestly, Tyler, I don’t know who I am.” She puts her hand on her heart. “In here.”

  I close my hand over hers. “In here you’re a good person.”

  “You don’t really know that, and well…. what if I figure out who I really am and no one likes that person?”

  I nod, and my heart pinches as understanding sweeps through me. I haven’t known her for very long, but what I do know, I like. When she’s with me, she’s been honest and open, like she is now. She hasn’t been hiding behind a character, and I’m glad she feels safe enough to be herself around me.

  “Have you been honest and open with me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Do you like who you are with me?”

  “Yes.”

  “For what it’s worth, Haven, I like who you are with me too. I like who I am with you.”

  She goes quiet for a long time, and we sit in silence until she asks, “Do you miss fighting?”

  I roll one shoulder. “At first, sure, but my life and priorities were changing. It was time for me to come back, and I knew it.” She stares at me, waiting for me to elaborate so I add, “After Dad passed away, Sean called us all home.”

  “And everyone just dropped what they were doing and came, no questions asked?”

  “He needed us, and we all needed each other. We’d all been away long enough.” She shakes her head like she can’t wrap her brain around that, and I get it. Who drops everything and returns to their childhood town because they were summoned?

  Those carrying a shit ton of guilt, that’s who.

  The truth of the matter is, we were all stupid kids, and when Dad got tough, we all turned our backs on him. “None of us were here when Dad died,” I say around a lump in my throat. As my insides squeeze tight, I shake my head and choke out, “I have no idea why I just told you that.”

  “Because we’re supposed to be honest with each other.”

  “Okay.” I say, but that’s not it. No, I’m a little raw inside. Being back at the cabin is opening old wounds, just like everyone knew they would. “Tell me more about this apiary.”

  “Nothing really to tell. It’s never going to happen. I’m not in one place long enough, and I honestly know nothing about bees.” Her eyes go wide, like she just had an epiphany. “Maybe you could start one instead of me. Right here.” She casts a quick glance around, her long curls swinging around her shoulders. “What a perfect spot.”

  “Fuck that.” I give a hard, definitive shake of my head. “I take it you’ve never been stung?”

  She shrugs. “I left them alone, they left me alone. That was the deal.”

  I chuckle. “What are you, the bee whisperer?”

  She whacks me and I let loose an oomph. “Smart ass. Seriously though, there is a lot of land and foliage here. It’d be a good spot for one. You know the bee population is declining, right? It’s our duty to help.”

  “Then you should definitely set up an apiary, because I’m not. I’ve been stung at least a dozen times.”

  “Well then, at least we know you’re not allergic.”

  “Maybe not, but it still hurt like a bitch.” A breeze blows in off the lake and I push to my feet and hold my hand out to her. She accepts it and I pull her up with me. Her body collides with mine, aligns perfectly and her softness wraps around me. I like this girl. Maybe on some level she’s just as damaged as I am. Maybe that’s why there’s an odd bond between us. Or maybe there’s no bond at all, and I’m just a hot mess inside because I’m stepping back into my pained childhood. I don’t know, but I can’t
deny there’s a strange new intimacy between us, a closeness I’ve never really felt before.

  “Let’s go inside.” I try the door and find it locked, even though most don’t lock up in Blue Bay. But the cabin is isolated and whoever was here last likely didn’t want the locals sneaking in and causing mischief. The only ones who would have done that back in my day, was an Owens boy. I lift the planter, and find the key, thinking more about the apiary as I open the door. It helps me keep my mind off the last time I was here.

  I step inside. Okay, so much for the bee conversation staving off old memories. The second I set eyes on the old recliner, propped up in the corner and yellowed from sun and age, I can see my father sitting in it, lecturing one of us boys about something or another. I blink hard and open my eyes again, but the vision is gone.

  Haven’s hand on my arm helps me pull myself together. “Tyler?”

  “Yeah?” I ask and needing a reprieve, I step back outside to grab our bags. I set them on the old wooden floor, and they land with a thud. I turn to her, and worry lingers in her eyes.

  “What is it?” she asks.

  “I don’t know. I guess for a minute there, I could almost see my father sitting in that chair.”

  She nods, moves a little closer, until her body is touching mine in a gesture meant to comfort and asks, “You guys were close, huh?”

  My trip down memory lane comes to an abrupt halt and I step back, close and lock the door behind us. “Come on, let’s air the place out,” I say, even though it smells fresh and clean. My abrupt change takes her by surprise, judging by her wide-eyed stare, but she just shakes it off and follows me through the place, opening the windows to let the fresh night air inside.

  “How many bedrooms does this place have?” she asks as she moves around the small kitchen island and into the living room. She puts her hands on the back of the sofa, her gaze moving over the recliners and the wall-mounted television, coming to stop on the bookshelf with my mom’s old romance books—I guess no one could bring themselves to throw them out—and all our childhood games.

  “Two bedrooms down here and one loft.” I point up.

  She taps her chin and glances over her shoulder as I pull the curtains back on the last window in the living room and release the latch. “Which bedroom should I take?”

  I spin around and find her grinning at me. “You’ll take the one I’m in.”

  “So bossy.” She laughs. “Seriously though, eight boys.” She pushes from the sofa and heads back to the kitchen, where she pulls back the curtains over the sink, the placid lake in full view, and slides the window open.

  As she goes up on her tiptoes, breathing in the fresh air, my gaze drops to her sweet ass. My cock instantly hardens. How I managed to get out of Winchester’s without taking her in that bathroom, stripping her of all worries and taking her to a place where nothing exists but pleasure, is a mystery.

  “Did you ever all stay overnight at once?” she asks.

  “Yeah, we did a lot of bunking together when we crashed here as kids. Carter snored back then, too.”

  “I love that,” she says, the longing in her voice wrapping around me and tugging tight. I step up to her, take her soft hands in mine. “I never had a big sleepover before,” she says, with a snort. “I only ever had sleepovers on the set and that was because we had to get up early.”

  I dip my head, and my heart aches for her lost childhood as her sweet floral scent washes over me. “You’ve got to be kidding me?” She shakes her head and averts her gaze, likes she might have said too much. “You’ve never had s’mores around a bonfire, or told ghost stories?”

  “Do people really do that, or is that just something you see on television?”

  “Jesus, girl. You haven’t lived until you’ve roasted a marshmallow and stuffed it between chocolate and graham crackers.” I hold my hands out and mimic the actions.

  “Sounds so nutritious.” She glances at me. “I see the healthy way you eat. I can’t believe you’d put something like that into your mouth.”

  “There’s lots of things I like putting into my mouth,” I say with a suggestive grin. “S’mores is close to the top of the list.”

  “Oh, what’s the first?”

  “How about I show you later.”

  She grins. “I’d like that.” She glances around the room again, and my heart hurts for the lonely little girl who missed out on so much. I put my thumb under her chin and lift it until those big blue eyes, so full of warmth, and love—and no one to give it to—land on me. “How about this. While you’re here, my family is your family. You can count on any one of us, Haven.”

  “You’re sweet.”

  “And you need to stop saying that,” I warn in a teasing voice.

  Dark lashes fall and open slowly over those gorgeous blue eyes of hers. “Why is that?”

  “If you don’t, I’m going to take you into that bedroom and show you just how not sweet I am.”

  “You’re sweet,” she says again, to taunt me.

  Her grin is shy, demure almost when I answer with, “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  10

  Haven

  Catching me by surprise, Tyler effortlessly scoops me up, wrapping his arms securely around me. I love the way he holds my body to his, carrying me like I’m something to be treasured, protected. With a strength that sends heat and need charging through me, he heads toward the stairs leading to the loft, and he takes them quickly. We reach the top and he sets me on the bed, and I instantly miss his warmth when he steps back. My God, it’s crazy how quickly I could get used to being with this man. I’ve never been so wide open and vulnerable in my entire life. It’s something I avoid, but strangely enough, it’s not so scary with him.

  Jutting my chest out, I lean back, brace my hands behind me, and he stands back, his powerful body hard and ready, like a predator ready to take down its prey. His gaze rakes over me and my heart beats a little faster when I catch the hungry and honest way he’s looking at me. I love how there are no games with him, how he holds nothing back. Just like when we stepped foot in the cabin, he didn’t try to hide the pain on his face—couldn’t. Men like Tyler, men with complicated layers that run deep, well, they don’t cry. Having watched my brother over the years, I know that firsthand. But I have no doubt tears were pounding behind his eyes, his insides raked raw.

  He touches me with his fighter hands. He’s no longer in the cage, but everything in my gut tells me he’s still fighting—some invisible enemy, a demon only he can see. But there is no time to give that further consideration. Not when he’s dropping to his knees and wedging his big, hard body between my legs.

  Air from the open windows downstairs wafts over my body like a hot caress, carrying his scent of fresh soap and briny sea. I breathe deeply, hold it in my lungs, as he leans in and presses a soft kiss to my mouth. With our lips fused, our tongues tangle as we indulge in one another. The exchange is a soft one, less hurried then before, and I melt into him, revel in the taste of his mouth, knowing I could stay exactly like this all night.

  He breaks the kiss, obviously having other plans, and inches back. As I take in the heat in his eyes, searing need pools deep in my belly. Without words, he takes his shirt off, and I let my gaze drop to take in his beautiful and battered body. I stare at him, my skin tight as I try to soothe those deep wounds with my eyes. But it’s not those raised purple welts that are hurting him.

  “Haven,” he says, his voice a low deep rumble of simmering need.

  My head lifts, and when I take in the intensity in this man, meet gleaming green eyes that are hard and dangerous, I can barely breathe. But I’m not afraid of him. Nothing about him frightens me, and maybe that in itself should be enough to scare me off.

  “Yeah?” I finally manage to get out past a tight throat.

  He takes my hand and puts it on his body, and his muscles jump beneath my palms. “Touch me,” he commands in a soft voice, like he needs the connection more than life itse
lf and I get it. Tonight, he doesn’t want to think. Whatever happened in this place he wants to forget, for a little while anyway, and dammit I want to be the one to help him. But as he presents this gentler version of himself, my chest squeezes, presses against my thundering heart, and turns my world a little upside down.

  Careful, Haven.

  I spread my fingers and he sucks in a breath as I slowly explore him, my hand moving over his hills and valleys, tracing his scars and wounds that all come with their own story. I push him back a little, and drop to my knees before him. My hand goes to his throat, and he angles his head. I run my fingers down, over his tight flesh and full veins, until I reach his shoulders. With the utmost care, I lean in to press soft kisses to each angry scar, wishing I could go deeper to chase away whatever it is that haunts him. His hands go to my hair and my name is simply a whisper on his tongue as he tugs. The man is brutal in the cage, his body scarred from hammering fists, but right now he wants soft hands on his body. My soft hands.

  I slide my palms lower, and tug on his jeans. My breathing grows harsher, matching his, and heat floods my sex. He puts his hand between my legs, slides up my thighs until he reaches my damp panties and briefly closes his eyes, like he’s in total agony.

  “You’re burning up, Haven,” he says.

  “I know. I’m aching for it,” I say. No sense in lying. The truth is right there, between my legs. “Can you do something about that, Ty?” I rake my hand through his hair and he tugs my panties to the side.

  “Something like this, you mean,” he says as he strokes my clit, a light touch with brutal fingers.

  Pleasure surges through me, making it almost impossible to talk. “God, yes,” I say. He thrusts a finger inside me and try as I might, I can’t seem to get the zipper down on his jeans. He shifts closer, shoves his thigh between my legs to widen them as he fucks me with his slick finger.