A Powers Play (The Powers That Be, Book 1.5) Read online

  Needless to say, I was a little surprised when a black pickup truck stopped behind me and a guy got out, almost immediately after I’d hung up with the auto service. I mean, I’d heard AAA was fast, but come on. The guy had come to the driver’s side and when he’d tapped on the window of my little Honda, I’d seen the full sleeve tattoo on his muscular arm and my eyes had bugged out.

  See, I’m from a small town in Idaho where everyone thinks tattoos are Satan’s markings, which I know is ridiculous and is one of the many reasons I couldn’t wait to leave that shitty little place, but I regret saying that when I’d seen his arm, I’d been a little on edge. The guy had stood there in the pouring rain while I contemplated what to do as I checked out the rest of him. He appeared to be over six feet tall and his entire body was ripped. Dang. I could see his abs all bumpy and defined through the wet white t-shirt that clung to him, and his rain-soaked jeans were stuck to what appeared to be muscular thighs. I’d then felt bad for ogling him as he stood there getting drenched, so I finally rolled my window down an inch and he’d bent to ask if I needed help.

  And, my God, was he beautiful.

  I stared at him as rain dripped from his straight nose to the ground. It drizzled down his high cheekbones where it met his strong, stubble-covered jaw, trickling to his chin before finally slipping off. The long curls of dark hair that framed his tanned face were dripping wet also, but it was his light brown eyes that held my attention, so expressive and soulful, lined in long, sooty lashes that were spiked from the rain. Damn. He was a total friggin’ hunk.

  “I’ve called Triple A, so no, thank you,” I’d yelled over the rain through the cracked window.

  He’d given me a sexy half grin, which made butterflies bounce off the walls of my stomach. “I could probably have it fixed before they even get their truck started.”

  I’d twisted my mouth to the side not really knowing what to do. I mean, if I agreed to let him fix it, I may as well just do it. “Uh, that’s okay.”

  “Seriously. You wouldn’t even have to get out, Rebecca. Just pop the trunk and I’ll take care of it. You won’t even have to lift one of your pretty, little fingers.” The smug look he’d given me made me frown. A lot.

  “Rebecca?” I asked wondering what he was talking about.

  “Of Sunnybrook Farm. You know, all clean and wholesome. Prissy,” he’d replied with a twinkle in his eye as he grinned fully now, his straight white teeth making him even more attractive.

  What the hell? I’d grown up with two older brothers and I was anything but prissy. I could drive a tractor for chrissakes! “No, really, it’s fine,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Oh, c’mon. Can’t have a helpless little lady like yourself out here all alone, you know. What are you, like fifteen?”

  I blinked at how rude he was being which was when Kim Kardashian, Jr. had walked up holding an umbrella and wearing the shortest shorts I’d ever seen. The crop t-shirt she wore had so much cut off that I could see her braless boobs hanging out from under it and couldn’t help but gape at how provocatively she was dressed. Then she’d whined, “What’s going onnnnnn, Gable? God! These helpless little Daddy’s Girls are so annoying! I could’ve changed the tire by nooooow! Leave the rich bitch alone and come onnnnnn!”

  And that was the precise moment I think steam had shot out of my ears. I reached down and jerked up on the trunk release because fuck that. Then I’d thrown open my door and saw the guy jump out of the way. I walked to the back of the car, raised the trunk, pulled back the carpet and removed the jack then went to the side where the tire was flat, put the jack down and started loosening the lug nuts with the tire iron.

  “Whoa! What do you think you’re doing?” Jerkface asked, having come around to the side of the car where I was.

  “Well, Prissy Rich Bitch here is changing her tire if you haven’t figured it out,” I muttered glaring up at him. And my eyes got great big when I saw that both his arms were covered in tattoos. Whoa. And why that made him even hotter, I had no idea.

  That was when Kim, Jr. huffed and called the guy an asshole (with which I couldn’t disagree), then she called me a stupid cunt (with which I totally took offense) and my mouth fell open as I watched her stomp back to the truck in her strappy wedge sandals, her ass cheeks totally hanging out from under her shorts. Wow. Classy babe.

  “At least let me help you with that,” Tattoo Guy said, ignoring his girlfriend.

  The glare I’d given him had him holding up his hands to his sides in surrender, his eyebrows raised as he grinned at me. I know I must’ve looked like an idiot with my long, blond hair soaked and hanging in my face, my cute, white cotton romper, which was sticking to me everywhere and was now probably ruined as I’m sure were my very awesome, white ankle-high gladiator sandals, but I’d be damned if I was going to let him help me now after he’d made me out to be some helpless female.

  When he hung around, I muttered, “Go away,” as I positioned the jack and twisted the handle. Once I got the car jacked up, I realized he still hadn’t left so I stood and turned to him, putting my hands on my hips. “What?”

  The perusal he gave me made the butterflies kick up again. Stupid fucking half grin. I frowned at him then moved back to the tire and proceeded to take off the lug nuts. When I went to remove the tire itself, he stepped in, took it off the wheel and rolled it to the trunk as I followed, telling him I had things under control and that he should just leave now.

  “Can’t have you getting yourself all dirty, now can we?” He’d looked me up and down appreciatively and that’s when I realized he could see everything through my outfit.

  Shit! I hadn’t bothered wearing a bra because the romper had a built-in shelf bra, and I’m sure I was giving him quite the show, knowing my nipples had gotten perky at his heated gaze. But now I had to own it. So taking a deep breath, I leaned into the trunk to remove the spare, but he pushed me aside gently and reached in for it. And, God, he smelled good, all fresh rain and hot man. Damn it.

  “I can handle it. Really. Why don’t you and Luscious take off?” I mumbled.

  He set down the tire, appearing confused, then asked, “Luscious?”

  “Your girlfriend. Isn’t that her stripper name?” I smiled sweetly at him hoping that’d make him mad and he’d finally leave, but instead, he’d barked out a laugh then proceeded to roll the tire to the front. I sloshed through the rain behind him then watched as he finished changing it, none too happy about it.

  “That’s it,” he said when he finished, putting everything back in its place in the trunk. Then his eyes landed on me, once again moving up and down my body making me want to cover myself with my arms but refusing to do so, and after wiping his hand on a rag held it up for me to give him a high five. “Nice working with you.”

  A high five? Really? Maybe he did think I was fifteen. “Uh, yeah,” I replied moving my hand slowly up to touch my palm to his.

  He ended up grabbing my hand during the high five, and I swear, this is so cliché, so stupid chick lit banal, but I honestly felt a damned jolt go through me when we touched. I think he felt it too because he looked at our hands, scowled for a second before scrutinizing me closely then let my hand go.

  His honey-brown eyes stared in thought into my green ones for a moment before that sexy grin hit his gorgeous face again. “Well, Miss Priss, I might be seeing you around.”

  “I’ll be waiting breathlessly until that moment.” At my sarcasm, he grinned again. I rolled my eyes and said, “So… thanks for the help.” I’m pretty sure he heard the muttered, “Jerk” I tacked on, but to his credit he didn’t say anything as I closed the trunk and rounded the car to get inside, but before I could pull my door closed he was there holding it open.

  “You go to Hallervan?” he’d leaned down and asked, and, God, those eyes, that face… that body. My lord he was hot.

  “Starting this semester,” I answered still trying to pull my door closed.

  “Maybe you’ll get lucky
and see me.” He winked then walked away.

  “One can only hope,” I’d mumbled, rolling my eyes again, before closing my door and driving away.

  It was then I looked down and saw my ruined outfit and sandals only then remembering I had an old pair of Keds and a raincoat under the passenger seat. Great.

  First Semester: First Week

  I was excited for school, ready to pursue my dream of becoming a journalist. I’d played a year of basketball at Southwest Idaho University, but I’d won a coveted scholarship that would pay for a huge hunk of the cost to attend Hallervan (which had a better journalism department) the next three years, so Dad couldn’t complain too much about my wanting to go here. He’d been proud of me but had also been worried because Seattle was a good twelve and a half hours away from the small town of Stone Springs, Idaho, where I’d grown up. But one of my brothers had helped with that since he was attending law school in Moscow, Idaho, which was clear across the state from our hometown, and he’d told Dad that he’d only be five hours from me and that had finalized it. Kind of. Dad had still made me promise to check in with him on a regular basis. I’d agreed because I loved my dad and also because my family was close and I couldn’t imagine not talking to any of them at least every few weeks.

  My brothers were four and seven years older than I was, which made me the baby, hence Dad’s reluctance to let me go. Heath was the oldest, (his full name was actually Heathcliff) my other brother was Holden and I was Scout. As you probably gathered, our mother had been an avid reader and named us after her favorite literary characters. I’d never known her because she’d died when I was three but I’d always felt her absence in our lives due to all the pictures of her in our house and especially when Dad or one of my brothers brought her up, sharing stories of times I’d never known or didn’t remember. When I was seven, I’d asked my dad why he’d never remarried. He’d gotten a faraway look in his eyes and told me that once you found your reason to breathe, no one else could “pass muster.” I hadn’t understood at the time, but it sounded romantic, so I’d let it go.

  So, back to our names. Although I thought they were cool, Heath despised his, even though his broody spells said the name fit him perfectly. But he’d taken a lot of crap from the other kids for it when he was little, so when I was old enough to know what it meant, I told him his name sounded prestigious and it would look great on business cards someday. He’d laughed at that saying he hoped that all the hell he’d gotten for it would eventually pay off. He was now a software developer in Boise, a job for which he was getting paid bank, so I’d say he’d more than vindicated himself for being picked on. Matter of fact, he was making so much money, he even co-signed for a loan with Dad for our farm. Dad, of course, had balked, but Heath had insisted, telling Dad the money would likely just go to more beer, so Dad had half-jokingly given in for the sake of Heath’s sobriety. My other brother Holden, who lived up to his namesake in the fact that he was a deep thinker (and also quite the party boy), was twenty-four, a huge ladies man and was the one in law school who’d convinced Dad to let me come to Seattle. And I’m Scout. I think I’ve done a decent job living up to my name because I’ve always been a tomboy and Dad says I’ve also always been fairly precocious.

  So there I sat in psychology class on the first day, when to my utter shock (and annoyance), Tire Change Dude walked in. And, damn it, he was even better looking out of the rain.

  He had on a gray short-sleeved Godsmack t-shirt over a long-sleeved black tee, hiding the full sleeves of tattoos that I knew he had, but I could still see part of a tattoo peeking out at the left side of his neck. I saw that his hair was actually a dark caramel-color, not quite as dark as the rain had made it appear, and he wore it in a fade cut with long bangs spiked up in the front. His faded jeans sat low on his hips and he wore brown, lace-up boots. He also had on black reading glasses, and jumping Jesus on a pogo stick, he looked good.

  I immediately turned my head away, scratching myself on the neck nonchalantly, hoping he wouldn’t recognize me. I then heard a guy several rows behind and a few seats to the left of me holler “Yo!” and I turned slightly to see Tattoo Dude raise his head in a nod at him then he came up the stairs and passed right by me and, damn it, I couldn’t not look. His eyes caught mine but they looked right through me, no recognition in them at all, which I oddly found was kind of disappointing.

  As I sat waiting for class to begin, I listened to the two guys talking and, boy, did I learn a lot. First of all, tire dude’s name was Gable. I hadn’t remembered what his girlfriend had called him that day in the rain, but now it clicked. Secondly, I found out they’d had a party the weekend before and Gable had gotten so wasted that he’d woken up in bed with three girls, so I guessed the classy babe with him when I had a flat wasn’t his girlfriend after all. Thirdly, I now knew he was thinking of getting another tattoo, probably “Luctor et emergo” on his right pec, which I knew was Latin but had no clue what it meant. The guy with him was just as clueless, asking about it, but Gable had remained close-mouthed. Fourthly, their poker game had been changed from Wednesday night to Thursday. And fifthly, who the fuck was the hot blonde piece of tail sitting in front of him with legs that went on for miles that he wouldn’t mind having wrapped around his head?

  He had to be kidding. Who said stuff like that in public? And did he really think that’d land him a girl? Wow. I inspected the classroom for the poor blond girl he was talking so rudely about, but most of the girls I saw had dark hair. Then I felt something hit the side of my head, and frowning, turned to see him and his friend ogling me as the wadded paper one of them had thrown landed in my lap.

  The friend jerked his chin up at me. “What’s up? Hey, did you fall from the sky because let’s have sex.”

  I stared at him for a moment before scrunching up my face and saying, “Seriously?” Really, who talked that way?

  Gable’s eyes narrowed then. “I know you.” I squinted my eyes right back at him then he snapped his fingers and pointed at me. “Tire girl. Miss Priss.” And he gave me that lopsided grin.

  I rolled my eyes and turned away because I was embarrassed by the whole encounter. I was also flustered at the fact that my heart was beating ninety-to-nothing and my nipples had gotten hard at just seeing him grin at me. God.

  The professor had now come in and started taking roll, so I kept my attention on her, ignoring the fact that I could feel Gable’s eyes burning a hole into the side of my head. I wanted to turn to him and frown, maybe even give him the finger, but I knew that’d just get me another nipple-hardening grin so I stayed facing forward. But as I sat there, using every ounce of restraint I could to keep from looking at him, I realized I was actually flattered by what he’d said about me, and it horrified me that I’d feel that way about being objectified and I wanted to smack myself in the head as I tried figuring out where my self-respect had gone.

  During roll call, I learned that his last name was Powers. Oh, boy, he was one of them. The them I’d been hearing about since stepping onto campus. And he was flirting with me. Well, wasn’t I the lucky one. Unable to help being curious about this latest bit of info and wanting to know if he really was as good looking as everyone had been saying (I mean, I’d seen him but hadn’t known who he was so I hadn’t really seen him seen him), I risked a glance over my left shoulder at him only to find him gazing right back at me with a lazy grin. Holy crap! I turned around quickly and promptly swallowed my gum on the breath I’d sucked in at getting caught. As I choked out a cough, I decided he was as hot as everyone had been saying, and I also decided I was an idiot to mess with him. Although very handsome, he was uncouth, rude and too wild for the likes of me and I needed to stay far, far away from him, which I told myself I’d do.

  So why the hell did that make him even more intriguing?

  ~*~*~*~

  Class finally ended with the professor stating that she was going to have us participate in an experiment which had us being pen pals with another psycholo
gy student from any of her classes, all in the name of science. She said the experiment was to see if our emails boosted the other person’s academic performance because we were to be encouraging when we wrote. We were not to tell who we were or give too much personal information about ourselves and at the end of the semester we’d be revealed to each other then we’d write a thesis over our experience. She’d posted our student ID numbers on the wall and who we were matched up with, and on our way out, we were to write down the number then email our person that day if possible.

  This sounded like fun and since I knew no one in Seattle other than Amy, I hoped I might be able to make a friend for the semester at least. As I stood waiting for the crowd to dissipate, I felt someone right behind me, and it was like my body knew it was him. My breathing instantly sped up, my heart started thumping hard in my chest and I could feel the hair on the back of my neck rise.

  “Good to see you again, Priss,”Gable leaned down and whispered into my ear, his hot breath on my neck making me shiver, and, of course, my nipples get rock hard.

  Good lord. I’d never experienced a reaction to a guy like this before. I closed my eyes for a moment, wanting to lean my head back against his hard chest and beg him to talk more, to say anything, or maybe nothing as long he stayed close so I could feel him against me, feel the heat that seemed to radiate from him burning into my skin. Instead, I said breathlessly, “My name’s not Priss,” and heard him chuckle softly, his mouth still at my ear.

  “I miss the white outfit,” he stated then put his hands on my hips, moving them down to where his fingers skimmed along the hem of my shorts then started moving them slowly back toward my bottom. “But these hot pink shorts make you look completely fuckable too.”