Moving a Little Heart
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Authors: Breanna Hayse
Moving a Little Heart
By
Breanna Hayse
©2015 by Blushing Books® and Breanna Hayse
All rights reserved.
No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Hayse, Breanna
ABCD Graphics & Design
eBook ISBN:
978-1-62750-803-2
Cover Design by ABCD Graphics & Design
This book is intended for
adults only
. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
Table of Contents:
Baylor paused to wipe the sweat off her brow. She glanced up at the blazing sun, cursing the insidious perfection of the day. Even in the middle of October, the desert temperature reached in the miserable high nineties. She had spent the entire night packing the ten foot cargo truck, and still saw no end of her move in sight. "Why can't I be rich and pay someone to do this?" she grumbled aloud. On the other hand, if she were rich, she wouldn't be worried about the ex-landlord kicking her out of her house so that he and his 'financial troubles' could move back in.
Greedy bastard
. She wondered how much her ex-husband, or his family, had to do with it. The property owner attended the same religious services as her ex in-laws and was a client of her ex father-in-law's prestigious bank, which served the wealthy clientele of Los Angeles.
"Let me help you with that," a man with a soft English accent said from behind her.
Baylor turned to watch him place a cooler filled with ice-cold water bottles on the ground, wipe his hands off on his jeans, and extend it to her to shake.
"Hayden Paterson, ma'am. Welcome to our little neighborhood."
"Baylor Parish. Oh, thank you." She looked at the tall man with surprise as he handed her a bottle of water and proceeded to pull the large box from the truck bed. Baylor forced a smile. The last thing she wanted was a nosey neighbor; it did not matter how cute he was! She had sworn off men for good this time. "You don't need to do that. I'm fine."
"Pleasure is mine, Miss Baylor. Drink up. It's still too hot in the day to be doing this kind of work. Why don't you take a break and wait a couple of hours for that sun to disappear?" Hayden asked, glancing around.
"No time. Gotta turn the damn truck back in and then go back for the rest. I hate moving."
"Don't you have anyone helping you?" the man asked with a frown.
"Nope, just me." She sighed, watching as he lifted a heavy box out of the truck with ease and placed it neatly on top of another.
"That is going to change right now," he said with a grin. "Let me get out of my jeans and I'll be right back."
"No, that's okay. I can—"
He was gone. Damn! Baylor slapped the hot metal of the cargo bay wall while blowing a big, pink bubble with her gum.
Why can't I just live in peace without people interfering
?
Her eyes widened as Hayden returned, dressed in shorts and a tank top. She chugged her water in an attempt to study him without being obvious. Nicely tanned and clearly either a workout fiend or genetically blessed, Hayden had a smile oozing with boyish charm that melted Baylor's heart quicker that the sweltering heat. She had to admit that it was nice to have some eye candy for once instead of the beer-bellied, lecherous old busybodies from her old neighborhood.
He chatted casually as he resumed unloading the truck into the garage, his arm muscles bulging as he lifted the contents and stacked them neatly against the wall. "You really shouldn't be doing this kind of work on your own. It's too heavy and you could hurt yourself. Don't you have any friends to call on?"
Not missing the subtlety of his question, Baylor popped another bubble and noticed his wince.
So, Mr. Cutiepie doesn't like gum chewers
? "I just got divorced, and people become scarce when they feel they have to choose between the couple, or the family. No biggie."
"I hate when that happens. It leaves a person feeling quite isolated."
"After being involved with my ex's family, I like being isolated," she commented. "You really don't have to be doing this."
"Of course I do! My job is to rescue damsels in distress," Hayden said and chuckled.
"Are you a fireman or something?"
"Close. I work with the Barstow Desert Team SAR unit. I got transferred out here about a year ago from Washington State."
"SAR?"
"Search and Rescue. We're a specialty division that employs all environment survival experts. We specialize in saving people from themselves," he said, chuckling again. "Our primary victims in these parts are the hikers and off-roaders who tend to disregard the rules, ignore posted signs, and try to defy nature. I'm an instructor on base and deal with the psychology of survival."
"You must have pissed someone off big time to get sent to the wastelands in the middle of nowhere," Baylor commented, stacking the smaller, seemingly endless boxes in a corner.
"Truth be told, I hate snow. I spent most of my life in Arizona with a pet Gila monster, a cactus garden, and a pain in the ass older brother."
"Gila monster?"
"Yeah, its name is Stud and it has a major attitude."
"You still have him?"
"Yes, those old buggers live forever. I'll introduce you to him later. Finish your water and I'll get you some more."
"You're being awfully bossy to someone you just met," Baylor stated, downing the last sweet drop.
"I'm the mellow one of the family," he said. "Drink."
Baylor took a deep swallow. "Where are you from originally?"
"My parents were from England. My mother divorced my father when I was two and married my stepdad when I was eight. He was from Yuma and moved us in with him and his kid."
"Were you teased about your accent?"
"Constantly, although my new brother put an end to it quickly. The first punch went into his best friend's nose just days after I showed up on his doorstep. Since I refused to 'talk normal', he just started beating up anybody who made fun of me."
"It sounds like he was good to you."
"He still is a pain in the ass, but he is also my best friend. So, what brings you here to what my dad calls the Armageddon of the west?"
"I wanted a change of scenery and some space to breathe. Los Angeles was too crowded and everyone was in my business. I like my privacy and it was a foreign concept to my neighbors. They said it was a cultural thing, but I just considered them nosey and irritating." Baylor mentally crossed her fingers that he would catch the hint. But then, he
was
a man…
"You will get plenty of breathing space out here, and nothing beats these skies at night. We desert folk have our own culture but I don't think you'll have any problem getting used to it. Not if you like barbeques and sports."
"I'm really not into either. I just need some time to veg out and regroup, not get involved in anyone's culture. Been there, done that. My ex was Chaldean, and it was all about family and culture, and I did not fit in."
"It sounds like you just got yourself caught up in a dysfunctional family. I have several friends who are Chaldean and they are nothing like that. Those people know how to party and how to spoil a guy. When I visit, I need a stretcher to take me to the truck. They won't stop cooking for me," Hayden responded, patting his stomach.
"I'm not much of a partier and I can't even boil an egg. I just failed them all the way around. I'm not much of the nurturing type anymore, and that is what my ex expected of me. Plus, I couldn't have kids—not like that was a bad thing with them around. That was the final straw for them all."
"I'm sorry you went through that. Maybe," Hayden hefted the last couple of boxes to the ground, "you can look at this move as a chance to start over. Change your life a bit."
"That's what I hope, starting with me calling the shots, making my own decisions, and becoming successful in a decent job. I've never had the opportunity to do any of those things. The family kept me home to learn how to be a proper wife and mother and discouraged me from even working."
"As long as you make good decisions and consider different options, you'll succeed in anything you want to do. Just remember," he pushed a box against the wall, "SAR people are into saving lives. We will intervene if we think you're in danger, like it or not."
"I have no intention of being in danger."
"Good! Then there won't be any reason for us to step in and help you uninvited, huh? There we go, all done!"
"For this truckload," Baylor sighed, handing him a bottle of water. "Thank you."
"How many more do you have left?" Hayden asked, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm.
"Lord, I don't know. I have two weeks to get out, and I can't exactly pack the truck as full as I should. Most of it is junk from the ex, but I don't have time to go through anything. My plan is to clean things out as I unpack—"
"I have an idea," he interrupted. "Come and take a break and cool down while I make a couple of calls."
"Thank you, but I really don't have time. I need to turn this truck back in, pick up my car and go back to pack some more."
"Nonsense. Make time. Come on," he said, grabbing her wrist and pulling her to the large, two story house next door. Baylor was slapped in the face with a blast of cold air as he escorted her inside. "Sit down until that red is out of your face. Drink."
Her lips moved without a sound. As much as she wanted to protest, she was severely parched and her head throbbed from the heat. Slowly, she sipped the water, resting the icy bottle against her forehead while Hayden spoke on the phone.
"Yeah, LA," he said, winking at her. "BBQ at our place afterwards. Tell the boys to bring a cow."
"Hayden…"
"Hush," he ordered, placing a finger on her lips as he finished his call. "Thanks, Jake. I'll see you in the morning. Be careful of the crazies on the road."
"Hayden, I appreciate your help, but I really have to get going," Baylor said, starting to stand.
"Sit your bottom down until you cool off. You're still red. I can't have you passing out on me," he commanded, pointing again to the couch. "I've got a crew to move you this weekend. One of the boys has access to a twenty-four footer."
"Are you serious?" Baylor asked in a panic. "You can't just do that! We just barely met, and—"
"I told you that rescuing damsels in distress was part of my job. No arguments. You are getting help."
"I haven't even packed up half my crap, and my house is a mess."
"We'll get that stuff locked and loaded in no time. As for the mess, no one can clean better than a squad of Marines. Situation resolved, mission accomplished. Stop fighting me—you won't win." He grinned.
"The truck still has to be returned. I dropped my car off at the receiving site."
"No problem. Just come back here for the night and rest up. With us coming, there's no reason to rush back."
"I need to get things done."
"Not tonight, you don't. It's a two hour trip, which you can do early in the morning while it's still cool and you've rested up a bit."
"Do you know what the word 'no' means?" Baylor asked in frustration. This guy could not take a hint!
"Nope."
"Hayden," she began as she stood, "I appreciate this good neighbor thing, but I have responsibilities. Thank you for the help and the offer, but I will do this on my own."
"Really?" He raised an eyebrow. "Do you always put up a fight when people want to help you?"
She scowled. "No, this is the first time."
"The first time you are fighting, or the first time anyone has tried to help you?" he asked gently. When she didn't answer, he grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him. "Before you go, let me show you one thing."
Baylor sighed and followed him into the backyard. Her eyes widened as she surveyed the large, black bottomed pool with a waterfall grotto, misting system, and neat groves of leafy palm trees. A huge outdoor kitchen and barbeque with outdoor seating and lounge chairs confirmed his propensity for large gatherings. "Oh, my, this is beautiful. You must spend a lot of time back here."
"It's yours anytime you want to use it. We have a joined gate between our yards. Just help yourself. Clothing optional, just an FYI," he teased with a wink.
"Are you always this generous with people you've just met?"
"No." Hayden laughed. "Just my next-door neighbors."
"I'm your only next-door neighbor. Everyone else is several lots away. Sorry, but I'm not accustomed to this kind of hospitality."
"In this part of the world, we need to look out for each other. My room-mates are always on the go and have different schedules, so don't be surprised to see a bunch of guys going back and forth over here. It feels like a frat house at times, but they're all good people. You'll like them. I should warn you; Jake will raid your fridge if you have food, and Terry will constantly be filling it if either of them have access to your house."
"How many people live here?" Baylor asked, suppressing a groan. She'd moved to Barstow for the quiet, and to get away from people. The real estate agent had sworn that her neighbors were rarely around and that no one would ever bother her.
"Including myself, four. Terry is a retired medic working with the desert and cold weather training teams, old Jake is a cop on swing shifts, and Matt is our resident hippie."
"What?" She wrinkled her forehead.
"He's a civilian," Hayden said, and chuckled. "Wilderness survival expert and endurance athlete. He's also one of the nicest guys you could ever meet. You'll like these boys. Promise. Oh, and this is Stud."
