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“What’s your name?”
“Spook.”
“Spook?” I stopped, staring up at light brown eyes that held an intensity and maturity far beyond most teens I knew. “Is that a nickname?”
He shook his head.
“Do you want me to call you Spook or something else?”
He gave me a half smile, but it looked sort of deranged with the blood on his face, swollen left eye, and the bruise forming on his chin. “I like C-Country.”
With a nod, I resumed our walk, closing in on my street. “Country sounds good to me.”
Any guy who could brawl three against one and managed to keep his cowboy hat on his head the entire time earned the right to be called Country. He only lost the hat when he hit the ground, not before, and he acted pissed when he picked it up and dusted the brim off. Plus, I loved his boots.
I felt terrible I didn’t intervene sooner when I stumbled upon Dade and his stepbrothers, but the country boy seemed like he had it under control until Dade and his brothers ganged up on him.
Country didn’t say another word, limping by the time we reached my front door. The porch light was on, and I flipped the switch so we wouldn’t have trick-or-treaters showing up. The neighborhood had gotten quiet without the rumble of motorcycles or the kids playing after dark. Maybe the rain chased everyone indoors.
My gaze swept the dark house across the street as we entered my yard. My best friend Abby wasn’t home. This was her weekend with her dad, and her mom was probably already in bed. Damn. I really wish she would have been home tonight. We could have crashed one of the Halloween parties happening tonight.
Luckily, no one was home at my place. I unlocked the door and brought the new guy inside. My father went out with my Uncle Hale and my cousin Micah. I had the house to myself. They probably wouldn’t be home until noon tomorrow since The Crossroads tended to get a little rowdy when they partied. And that happened often. Like every day that ended in ‘y’.
Under normal circumstances, I’d never bring a guy I just met into my house. It was risky for the club. But this was different. Country wouldn’t hurt me.
Besides, I knew the club would have a prospect watching the house. They never left me unprotected. I didn’t see anyone outside, but that didn’t mean Will or Bear wasn’t watching from a distance. Anything I did would be reported back to my father. I knew he’d have a fit when he learned I brought a guy into the house he had never met.
Better to apologize later than ask for permission now.
And anyway, what the hell was I supposed to do all weekend? Hang out alone while my best friend was stuck in Las Vegas without me?
“N-nice place,” Country observed, following me into the kitchen as I pointed to one of the stools in front of the island.
“Thanks. Sit. I’m getting the first aid kit.”
He didn’t argue as I left him to pick up the supplies I needed, returning to place them on the granite countertop. When I glanced his way, I caught him staring, specifically at my face. He didn’t ogle me in that sexualized way filled with lust I got from Dade. Country openly checked me out when he first saw me, but that was it. His current expression reminded me of someone mulling over a puzzle and trying to figure out how the pieces are interconnected.
I guess I was a bit of an anomaly.
Walking to the fridge, I pulled out a bag of frozen peas. He winced when I pressed it against his swollen eye.
“Fuck,” he cursed.
“It’s gonna be a shiner,” I responded as his lips pursed. “Let’s take a look at your stomach.”
I knew he’d gotten cut; I just didn’t know how deeply.
Country frowned, peeling the wet material away from his skin.
On the way over, I noticed how the t-shirt had clung to the hard lines of his body, revealing every toned inch of muscle. Trying hard not to think about how big and tall he was, with shoulders as broad as my father’s. A corn-fed farm boy physique that made me want to lick my lips at the sight.
“You should take it off.”
He grunted as I reached out to assist him with the shirt, helping lift the soggy cotton over his head. Neither of us voiced the obvious innuendo my comment invoked.
The young man in front of me grimaced when I stared at the numerous scars carving a pathway across his torso, up his chest, and over his left shoulder. Round burn marks dotted the entire section of his abdomen. That wasn’t all. Jagged cuts from old wounds. Puckered skin in multiple places.
In horror, I lifted my gaze, meeting his unswollen brown eye. In the depths, I witnessed a tumultuous rage simmering below the surface. His anger didn’t bother me since it had everything to do with Dade and the Carmichael boys and not me. The abuse so clearly mapped out on his body caused my fingers to tremble with my disgust, furious that someone would do such despicable things to another human being.
