Too Strong: Hayes Brothers Book 4

DAD WAITS OUTSIDE, leaning against the trailer, his rough hand gripping the white fence marking the boundary of a makeshift porch. The wood’s rotting, white paint peeling, a sad, sad state of affairs.

Clouds of smoke swirl around Dad, dissolving in the cool evening air as soon as he takes a drag of his cigarette. His normally carefree expression is marred by a slight frown as he watches the hood of my car.

I’m frowning, too.

I’ve been frowning non-stop since steam came hissing from under the hood, pleading with my car not to give up. At first, it was a slow, gentle hiss that seemed like nothing to worry about. But now, my Mercury is a boiling kettle, spouting out so much steam I can’t see where I’m going.

The car judders beneath me as I press on the brake. I can’t tell how far off the fence I am, but I bet if I try to roll any closer, I’ll hit it for sure since I can’t see through the thick steam clouds. It’s like driving through a dense fog.

I glance at my dad, the prominent wrinkles around his eyes telling me all I need to know.

This is bad. Really bad.

Dad strides across the narrow pathway, his heavy work boots thudding against the ground with each step. He rolls the sleeves of his flannel shirt to his elbows, approaches the car, and steps back when a massive cloud of scalding steam hot enough to cause second-degree burns erupts from beneath the hood as soon as he cranks it up. A cigarette dangles from the corner of his lips, the ash clinging to the edge, threatening to drop. Sweat beads along his hairline as he examines the engine, eyes narrowed in concentration.

With a defeated sigh, I open the car door and grab my bag from the passenger seat before stepping out and slamming the door shut harder than intended.

The sound echoes across the trailer park, startling the neighbor’s Rottweiler. They keep him in a large pen at the side of their trailer like he’s livestock. The metal creaks under his weight when he jumps against it, barking loudly, his mouth foaming.

I feel his gaze follow me as I approach Dad, his cigarette hanging onto his bottom lip by sheer will.

“Hey, Angel,” he says, his voice gentle and soothing. “How was the date?”

I told him about Brian. To be perfectly honest, over the years, I’ve told him about everything that was happening in my uneventful life. Right until Rose begged me for two days to sneak her out of the house into Mia’s Halloween party.

Thanks to her, for the first time ever, I have a secret I can’t share with Dad. He’s laid back, loving, and caring. Mostly stays out of our way, but he’d lose his mind if he knew we entered the enemy’s lair.

I never gave the mayors or city council members much thought until Robert Hayes was voted in a few years ago. My dad fumed for weeks, complaining the town would get swallowed up by rich corporations while small shop owners would be run out of business. He said Robert Hayes only cared about keeping the elite happy and their wallets stuffed.

The years went by, and the talk in town was the exact opposite of my father’s predictions. Our new mayor took care of everyone, putting particular focus on small shop owners.

His wife organized a few events, raising money for renovating the pier and key tourist attractions and installing new lights across the town to reduce the cost of electricity consumed by the city so that, in the long run, the money could be better spent on other things.

During his first election period, he did more for the ordinary folk here than his three predecessors combined.

It wasn’t a surprise when he was re-elected, and now, with less than a year to go, he still pumps money into the infrastructure, repainting the shopfronts on the main street and prettying up the town.

But even with everything good he’s done, my dad still detests him to his core. They’re roughly the same age, and as I refuse to believe my dad’s a bitter old man, I’ve guessed his undying reluctance has more to do with something that must’ve happened between them back at school than Robert’s mayor post.

“Vee?” Dad urges, the last drag of his cigarette hanging from his lips before he tosses it on the ground and crushes it under his muddy boot. His eyes search my face as he waits for me to say something.

“Oh, yes, sorry…” I mutter, tearing my eyes from the dissipating steam. “It’s dead, isn’t it?”

Dad bends over the engine again, his fingers moving nimbly as he inspects the damage, wafting his hand left and right to get a better view. “I think your water pump’s gone.” He straightens up, wiping his hands on his jeans.

An exasperated groan swells in my chest. “Great. I bet it’ll cost a fortune to fix.”

“Not necessarily,” he replies, sending me a reassuring smile. “I’ll drop you off at work in the morning and get Uncle Hal to take a look at the car.”

Uncle Hal isn’t actually my uncle. He’s Dad’s best friend from high school and my godfather. Even though he’s not a mechanic by trade, he knows his way around cars well enough.

Up until two years ago, he worked on my Mercury whenever something bigger than what Dad could fix needed to be done. Since he had a stroke, he’s been in a wheelchair, no longer able to fix cars.

Dad slams the hood shut and snags another roll-up from a tin tray, his expression curious. “Now tell me about that date, Vee. I don’t like that you’re evading. Was he a douche?”

I let out a soft chuckle. Yeah, Brian was definitely a douche, but Conor… Conor was everything but. Completely different from what I imagined. Despite the designer clothes, expensive watches, and a fancy car, he’s down to earth. Funny.

He kept stuffing his face with caramel-coated nuts and gulped his Slurpee too fast more than once, like an impatient kid. He hadn’t done a single thing tonight I didn’t find hot, clever, or endearing, and that kiss…

Oh my God, that kiss. I swear my mind went off like a Roman candle when his lips met mine.

Conor’s nothing like the men I’ve come across thus far. He acts like he doesn’t have a care in the world. He laughed so much tonight I bet his face will hurt tomorrow, but when he kissed me, he did it with such raw, feral intensity it felt like he wanted to eat me.

I think he did. His hard cock jutted against my hip, size impressive even through his jeans. That’s not surprising. He looks like he’s packing, and he sure kisses like he knows how to use his size to elicit intense pleasure.

The kiss alone was so sensual, so full of want, that my panties dampened on cue.

I swallow hard, avoiding Dad’s curious looks as I turn to get inside. “He’s okay,” I say, keeping the answer light, brief, and lying only a little when I add, “We had dinner at Ruby’s, then took a walk down the pier.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

I feel his eyes drilling into my back like he’s trying to read a lie from my body language. I shrug, pull the door open, and step inside the stuffy trailer where the scent of pork chops hangs so thickly in the air I can almost taste it.

“I don’t know him all that well, but I had fun, and we’re going out again on Sunday.”

Dad nods, glancing at the wall clock. It’s already ten past eleven, meaning I’ve got less than six hours to sleep before my alarm blares at five.

“I guess you already ate, but there are leftovers in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

“I’m not,” I lie again.

Damnit, it’s starting to become a habit.

Dinner with Brian was a few hours ago, and I had a small salad, too nervous to stomach anything else. I’d love some food but stuffing myself with a greasy meal minutes before bed will mean tossing and turning for hours.

“We have to leave at half-five,” I say, covering my mouth to yawn. “I’ll knock on your door a few minutes earlier.”

“I’ll be up,” Dad promises, but instead of heading for bed, he flumps into the armchair, switching on the TV to watch a recap of whatever match he missed while working today.

“Night, night,” I mutter, dragging my feet across the floor.

It’s been a long week. Long enough that I regretted agreeing to work overtime at the newsagents. Now that my car needs work again, I’m glad I did. The extra cash will come in handy.

I wash up and change into my pjs, careful not to make any noise as I climb to my bunk bed. Rose is asleep, her phone on the pillow, an inch from her face. She only does that when she and Liam get back together.

Looks like she’s giving her douche-of-a-boyfriend another chance after she caught the asshat flirting with another girl.

I bury myself under the comforter, pulling a fluffy blanket close to my chin, my eyes already closed. Just as I hit that blissful moment when I’m seconds from falling asleep, the vibration of my cell has me nearly jumping out of my skin.

Unlocking the phone, I squint against the bright screen.

Abby: Why am I not your friend anymore?

I frown, reading her text a few times and understanding less with every pass.

Me: You sure you got the right number?

Abby: Yes! How is it I have to find out from Tammy that you’ve been snatched away from your date with Brian by CONOR HAYES?! I want to know everything. How? Why? When? Where?

Last week, The Ramshack was so packed she never saw me talking to him. I didn’t tell her about it or about him, knowing damn well she’d find a way to have him join our party.

It’s no surprise she knows who Conor is. She pays attention, indulges in the gossip flying around Newport that I always tune out. I’m sure the Hayes brothers are a big part of that whispered information.

And of course Tammy, the waitress at Ruby’s, blabbed as soon as she had the chance. Abby and Tammy are friends, both working at the diner.

Me: I’ll tell you everything, but not now. It’s late, my car broke down again, and I’m working at six. Talk tomorrow.

Abby: You think I’ll last until you finish work to get all the details?! I won’t get any sleep now! You’ll tell me on your way to work. I’ll pick you up at half-five.

I send back a kiss emoji, forcing my eyes shut. Instead of sleep encompassing my exhausted body, my mind replays the evening. Every word Conor spoke, every touch of his hand, every look, and those two kisses lull me into a dreamless sleep.

***

The next morning Abby pulls up in her car, a beat-up old thing, a twin brother from another mother to my Mercury. Except my car doesn’t reek of stale cigarettes. She smokes like a chimney, lighting one up when she tugs at the hand brake.

I wave at her from the door, silently asking her to wait, then tiptoe down the hall to let Dad know he won’t be needed.

Hearing him mutter, “I’m up, I’m coming,” I crack the door wide enough to speak through.

“It’s okay, Daddy. Abby’s taking me. See you tonight.”

“I thought I heard her car,” he says, his voice groggy. I’m sure the whole park heard. She’s got a hole in her exhaust the size of my fist. “Call me when you’re done, Angel. I’ll pick you up.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

A minute later, I hop in the passenger seat, throwing my bag in the back, ready for the interrogation of a lifetime.

Abby’s a great friend. The nosiest person I know. Her excitement shudders through the car, making the air crackle with energy as she shifts in her seat, leaning closer to me with a wild grin.

“So? What are you waiting for! It’s been seven seconds already, and I still know nothing. Spill!” she squeals, making her seat groan with her excited bounce. “How did it go? How did you even meet Conor, and why don’t I know you did? When? Where?” She crunches into gear, swallowing a deep breath when she runs out of steam. “What did he say? What did you say? Where did you go? Did you kiss? Fuck? Was it good?”

That’s Abby. Blabs faster than she thinks, projectile-vomiting words without filters. I laugh, her excitement contagious and helping me relax. I’ve not had time to think about how bizarre meeting Conor was and how I feel, so letting it out helps organize my thoughts.

I tell her about the Halloween party, leaving no stone unturned. The more I say, the more her cheeks flush hot pink, and her lips twist into a dreamy smile after I mention he kissed me. She’s silent throughout the story, navigating the roads as she unleashes an excited gasp here and a no way! there.

“That’s about it,” I admit once I circle back to last night.

“About it?!” she booms, turning to face me. “That’s everything! God, I’m so fucking jealous, Vee! Hot, rich, great kisser, and I bet his dick is huge. There are rumors about the Hayes brothers, and they’re very…” She spreads her hands, demonstrating the size, her eyes widening for impact, “…very generous.”

“We’ve not gotten that far,” I mutter, the size of Conor’s cock against my hip last night not something I want filling my head at six in the morning. It’s enough that my panties were soaked all evening. I don’t need that at work.

“But you will, right? Don’t go all Mother Teresa on me here. I need the dirty, girl. Ride his dick! What have you got to lose?”

I roll my eyes but can’t help a pleasant thrill washing over me as her words activate a string of vivid fantasies.

“We just met…” I trail off, my excitement doused when the main issue rears its head, reminding me of its existence. “He’s loaded, Abby. I mean, he’s sweet. Pretty intense, too. We fit so well, but I’m not his equal, you know? He says he doesn’t care where I live, where I work, or what I drive, and maybe he doesn’t, but what happens when I meet his friends? When he sees me beside all those gorgeous, done-up, rich girls who don’t have to work two jobs? Who do you think he’s going to pick?”

Abby sighs, shaking her head. “You always do that,” she mutters, clearly annoyed. “You’re overthinking and finding problems where there are none. You’re way too insecure. Comparing yourself to others is dumb, girl.”

She veers onto the curb outside the newsagents too fast, the front of the car screeching against the sidewalk. A loud crack tells me she might’ve wrecked the bumper.

Not for the first time.

Killing the engine, she turns to me, a hard edge to her narrowed, brown eyes. “If Conor said he doesn’t care where you live or what you drive, take his word for it. Any guy put off by it wouldn’t be so relentless. That’s A, and B, as for his friends, who fucking cares what they think? You’re not dating them. You’re dating Conor.”

“We’re not dating. We’ve been out once. Don’t go bridesmaid-dress shopping just yet.”

She mimics my tone, letting out a thread of gibberish before actual words come out. “Whatever. Don’t pretend you don’t want him. I wouldn’t be hearing a detailed rendition of every one of his fucking kisses and touches if you didn’t.”

“I didn’t say I don’t want him, but I don’t know what to do,” I whine, thwacking the back of my head against the headrest, my eyes closed. “It just feels like he’s from a different world. Like the differences are too big to overlook.”

Abby reaches over and squeezes my hand tight. “Look, I get it. It’s surreal, right? But sometimes, you just have to take a leap of faith. You never know where it might lead. And if it doesn’t work out, so what? At least you gave it a fair shot. Give it a few more dates, then decide if he’s worth it.”

I nod, her words sinking. She’s got this effortless way of dredging my frenzied thoughts, plucking those that matter, and helping me navigate life while my mind’s a ball of wool tangled by a kitten’s games.

“You’re right. I’m just… scared, I guess.”

But when I think back to last night, there was no fear. Everything Conor said, how he acted, held my hand, and looked at me… I have no experience with dates, but the few Abby’s been on didn’t look like mine.

Mine was so much better.

So much more.

She leans back in her seat, giving me a reassuring smile. “I know, babe. You get infatuated fast, so keep that in check for a while but don’t let your unfounded insecurities hold you back. You’re amazing. You deserve someone who sees that.”

I take a deep breath, feeling a newfound sense of determination taking root inside me. “Thanks. I needed to hear that.”

“Anytime, girl. Now get your ass to work, then call me when you’re done. I’ll stop by tonight and help you pick an outfit for Sunday.”