“Women don’t like being called ‘chicks’ or ‘darling.’ Really, for a rock star, you sure are ignorant to what women want.”
He took a few steps closer to me and lowered his brows. His deep-chocolate eyes pierced me and forced my stomach to flip upside down and sideways. The stubble on his chin was so perfectly groomed, and his lips looked soft enough to kiss. He slid his teeth slowly against his bottom lip before brushing his thumb against it and raised a brow. “And what exactly is it that women want, Hazel Stone?”
The way he used my full name made me dazed and confused. Gosh, I hated him. I hated how cocky and confident and moody and sexy he was all at once.
“Th-they w-w-want to be called anything in the world other than ‘chick’ or ‘darling.’”
He eyed me up and down and placed his hands against the top of his towel, securing it in place. “Duly noted. Any more rules?”
“Yes, and this one is important.”
“I’m all ears.”
“We lock the door at night. The last thing I need is some Amber, Reese, or Sue sneaking into the house, looking to find you for a round of sexual escapades, then taking a wrong turn and ending up in my bed.”
A wicked smirk hit his lips. “That doesn’t sound so bad to me. I could always head over and join in on the party.”
I felt my face flush and tried my best to shake off the nerves. “I’m serious, Ian. I don’t want some random person walking in. That makes me nervous.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, still staring at me as if he was trying to dissect my mind. Then he moved away from my side and walked over to the front door and locked it.
A whispered breath left my lips. “Thank you. Do you want to show me which room is mine?” I asked, taking a step toward the hallway, but his hand landed on my shoulder.
“Now hold on there a minute. You’re not the only one with house rules. I got some of my own.”
“Oh? And they are?”
“You can’t judge me on the number of women I bring in and out of this household. We all got our hobbies, and mine happen to involve a lot of intimate moments with different women.”
“Ignore your manwhore ways. Got it. What else?”
“I’m more music than man. When I’m inspired, I might start playing or singing at odd hours of the night. If I don’t get it out, I’ll drown. I don’t want no noise complaints.”
“Makes sense. What else?”
“This is the most important one of all. I’ll stay out of your affairs, and you’ll stay out of mine, but if Big Paw asks you—you and me? We’re friends. Good ol’ pals.”
“Why would it matter if Big Paw thought we were . . .” My words trailed off, and I arched an eyebrow. “Did he tell you to befriend me and to let me move in with you?”
His quietness told his truths.
“Unbelievable.” I sighed. But then again, was it really that unbelievable? Of course there was a reason Ian wanted me to crash at his place. I was well aware that he hadn’t liked me from the jump, so the complete one-eighty of him inviting me to stay with him made no sense whatsoever. “Why would Big Paw do that?”
“He found out you were staying in the shed and didn’t want you doing something like that, seeing as how it’s idiotic and unsafe.”
There was the Ian I knew and loved. Mr. Charming.
“So he told you to let me stay with you?”
“Yup.”
“And if you didn’t?”
“He’d sell the house, and I’d be living in a damn shed too. Look, I know this isn’t ideal for either of us, but we both got a dry place to put our heads at night. So let’s just make the most of it, and if Big Paw asks, we’re buddy-buddy. Okay?”
“Okay. I can handle that. How much do I owe for rent each month?”
“Free ninety-nine. I don’t pay rent, so half of that is nothing. I’m going to get ready for bed, but your room is down the hallway to the left. I left you some spare clothes if you need them.”
“Please don’t tell me they are the clothes other women have worn of yours.”
“Don’t worry; they are freshly cleaned. If you need anything else—don’t.”
He turned around on his heel and took his grumpy and somewhat sexy ol’ butt to bed.
“Good night, best friend,” I called out, tongue in cheek.
“Don’t push it, Hazel Stone.”
I couldn’t help it. Pushing Ian Parker was becoming one of my favorite pastimes.
I headed to my bedroom and found a bathroom attached to it. I had my own bathroom. One I didn’t have to share with anyone other than me. Never in my life had I thought that would ever be a thing for me. I grabbed the clothes on the bed, headed straight to the shower, and turned it on steaming hot.
Warmth washed over me as I scrubbed my body clean with a very masculine-smelling soap—probably the same soap Ian used against his skin.
I’d forgotten how great it felt to stand inside a tub and have hot water racing across my body. The water hose outside the stables was always freezing cold. After the shower, I tossed on Ian’s clothes and looked a little too much like the woman who’d left earlier that evening. I would’ve complained about it if the clothes were not so freaking comfy and dry.
When it came time for bed, I thanked the heavens above for an actual mattress and a pillow to lay my head against. Tears formed in my eyes from Big Paw’s kindness. The fact that he’d seen me struggling and forced his grandson to help me was the truest form of kindness. I had nothing to offer Big Paw. I pretty much had nothing to my name, and still, he’d chosen to help me.
I owed him everything and more.
I had been without a home for two and a half weeks, and they were the toughest few weeks of my life. I couldn’t imagine what it felt like for people who lived that life on the regular.
Even though all the pieces of my messy puzzle weren’t together, I was thankful, because I knew somewhere out there, men and women were sleeping in dangerous corners of the world without a Big Paw to bring them in for the night.
That night I promised myself that whenever I received the chance to help someone, I’d pay it forward in a heartbeat.
6
IAN
What in the hell is that smell?
I woke up to an excruciating scent filling the house, and the moment I sat up in my bed, I knew exactly what the smell was—pig shit.
I pulled myself out of bed and headed toward Hazel’s bedroom. I knocked repeatedly against her door, and she opened it, still tired in the face, but freshly out of the shower. She was wearing a pair of shorts and a tank top and not a drop of makeup.
She looked . . . different.
Completely different than I knew her to be. Hazel had a much smaller frame than her oversize clothes would’ve led one to believe, and her skin was perfectly smooth, with small freckles dancing across her nose.
Her green eyes shone so much more without those pounds of makeup sitting against her face too.
She was beautiful.
Fuck me sideways and call me Jim—Hazel Stone was breathtaking.
She cocked an eyebrow as I cocked another body part. “Can I help you?” she asked.
I tried my best to shake off my moment of confusion and cleared my throat. I started sniffing the air and looking around her bedroom as I scratched at my messy hair. “It smells like pigs in here.”