Page 12 of Nailed

The flier gave out information about a community meeting with the local historical preservation group regarding the firehouse. That on its own would've been one thing but the tone of the messaging was another altogether.

I tore it up right in front of the man, an act that effectively launched him right into a temper tantrum.

“Who the hell do you think you are, waltzing into this neighborhood and desecrating a 19th century landmark just for the sake of your silly little hobby, huh?” His breath was foul, and it assaulted my senses as he reared his face too close to mine. His voice was serrated at the edge, and suddenly this wasn't funny or annoying anymore. It was scary.

I took a step back and he moved with me.

“Sir, if you don't back up right now—”

“You'll do what? Don't think for one second that the entire community isn't on the same side of this issue.” He took another step closer and I almost stumbled over a raised slab edge. “You're surrounded by people who want you out of here. Get that?”

I swallowed hard, clenching my fists. My thoughts were scattered but I quickly tried to collect them, righting my stance and squaring out my body. I was just getting ready to shove him back when a blur of motion intercepted, a force strong enough to send the neighbor flying and landing on his rear.

“I think that's enough, Tim. Go home and fuck your wife and maybe you'll be slightly less of a pain in the ass.” I recognized the voice before I recognized the back of his body as he put himself between me and “Tim.”

It was Rafe.

All of the crazy emotions that had been swirling around my head until now—the confusion, fear, uncertainty and rage—were all sharpened on the edge of adrenaline. And now they were focused on Rafe, with a single one rising above the rest.

“You don't have to defend my honor,” I spat, the words little more than a growl.

Rafe clicked his tongue, not taking his eyes off Tim, who struggled to his feet.

“You're a traitor to your city,” he scoffed at Rafe. “You think you can protect her forever?”

“I think you should go home before you get yourself into a bad situation,” Rafe replied calmly.

I couldn't see his face but whatever look it bore caused Tim to pale. He swore at us before turning and walking away with his tail between his legs. When Rafe finally faced me, the sheer smugness of his expression only pissed me off even more than I already was.

“That wasn't any of your business. I can handle myself,” I snarled.

“You have a very unique way of thanking me for saving you, but don't worry about it. You're welcome,” he replied.

I hissed a breath and dusted non-existent dirt from my clothing. I couldn't even begin to pick apart what I was feeling. I'd spent so many years of my life learning to protect and defend myself that it had become second nature to me, to the point where depending on anyone else to get me out of trouble felt decidedly unnatural.

I'd hated having Tim in my face like that. I hated feeling helpless and small and I would've gone down swinging if it meant I stood my ground. But I couldn't tell if that would've been worse than letting Rafe help me.

Why was he messing with my head this way? This needed to end before something happened that could throw my life even further out of whack.

“You know what, this whole thing was kind of fun while it lasted,” I admitted.

“What thing?” he asked innocently.

“Whatever thing you have going on in that brain of yours that seems to get off on watching me squirm,” I clarified. “I enjoyed the banter. Fun, truly. But if this is going to work then we need to start staying out of each other's way until the renovation work is done.”

“And why is that?” He folded his arms.

“Because I don't like you,” I answered simply. “In fact, I'm sure I kind of hate you.”

What I didn't add was that I didn't like how blurry things became when he was around, or how I could never make sense of my thoughts and the easiest one to grab onto was fury. I didn't say that at all.

“You don't like me, huh?” Rafe took half a step toward me. I'd had too many people encroaching in on my personal space and I refused to take a step back this time. Instead I held my ground, unwavering, crossing my own arms over my chest. Waiting.

His eyes locked on mine, reading and interpreting what he saw there. And what he saw there drew his lips into a knowing smirk.

“You hate me,” he repeated slowly, his voice dropping an octave. “But you still wanna fuck me, don't you?”

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