Undo Me Slowly: A Small Town Enemies to Lovers Romance Read online

  Undo Me Slowly

  Empire of Titans

  Hazel Parker

  Copyright 2021 by Hazel Parker - All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher.

  All rights reserved.

  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 – Lauren

  Chapter 2 – James

  Chapter 3 – Lauren

  Chapter 4 – James

  Chapter 5 – Lauren

  Chapter 6 – James

  Chapter 7 – Lauren

  Chapter 8 – James

  Chapter 9 – Lauren

  Chapter 10 – James

  Chapter 11 – Lauren

  Chapter 12 – James

  Chapter 13 – Lauren

  Chapter 14 – James

  Chapter 15 – Lauren

  Chapter 16 – James

  Chapter 17 – Lauren

  Chapter 18 – James

  Chapter 19 – Lauren

  Chapter 20 – James

  Chapter 21 – Lauren

  Chapter 22 – James

  Chapter 23 – Lauren

  Epilogue—James

  MORE from this series!!!!

  Chapter 1 – Lauren

  Being born and bred in a big city, I have seen rats the size of small dogs and cockroaches the size of…well, the size of rats. These are not things that you would call welcome sights, but they weren’t unfamiliar, either.

  Now, snakes on the other hand…

  The snake that emerges from under my bed and slithers across my bare feet like a dry, scaly rope is definitely outside of my experience. Another thing outside of my experience is my reaction—I shriek and flee the scene like the room is on fire.

  Down the stairs, across the foyer, and out the front door, all in one long scream. I might have stopped on the front porch, but the feeling of the snake’s underbelly on my feet surges back up in my memory and said feet are in motion again, carrying me off the porch, down the steps, and into the front yard.

  I’m aware that I’m following up my hefty first scream with a pretty good second one. I’m also aware that I’m in my underwear. In the city, this situation would have been unthinkable. My screams would have led listeners to turn off their lights and lower their blinds. My state of dress, or un-dress, if you prefer, would have led me to be quickly assaulted, or arrested, or both.

  I appear, however, to have no audience tonight outside of the crickets, which go on droning as if to say, “Welcome to small-town life, lady.”

  The grass is damp and tickles my feet, which have already been put through much more than they are used to for one night. The skin over my entire body crawls, and I shudder, giving voice to another screech of terror and revulsion.

  I wonder if the same thing about rats and roaches is true about snakes, where if you see one, there’s a dozen more that you don’t. I have this image of my new home as a haven to reptilian monstrosities, all lurking in dark corners and in the closets and cabinets.

  There’s only one thing to do. I’ll just have to move. Again.

  That’s going to be problematic, in that unless I want to begin life anew in a fresh town in my underwear, I’m going to have to go back inside my presumably snake-infested house.

  The front door is open, spilling a slant of warm light out onto the lawn. It looks so inviting. You’d never know it was the entrance to a den of horrors.

  A particularly tall weed brushes the back of my calf scaring the shit out of me. I yelp some more. Nope, nope, not going back inside.

  The night air is cool on my bare flesh. Not exactly chilly, but when you’re dressed in only the essentials, you really feel the subtlest breezes. I hug my arms across my chest and shiver. This, I tell myself, is as bad as things can get.

  “Hello,” says a voice from behind me.

  I give another little shriek—and why not, I’m already good and warmed up in that respect—and spin around.

  There’s a man standing there a few feet away. Mid-30s, dark hair and eyes, jeans, and a plain, short-sleeved black T-shirt. His hands are on his hips. The bemused expression on his face is immediately infuriating.

  Anger and embarrassment go to war inside my head. Embarrassment wins easily.

  “Er…hi,” I stammer.

  “You all right?” the man asks.

  Does it look like I’m all right? I think. What do you think I’m doing here, communing with nature or something?

  “Er…” I manage.

  “You just sounded like you were in some kind of distress,” he says.

  I can’t find my footing here, and not just because I’m without shoes and socks at the moment.

  “Snake,” I finally get out. “Inside.”

  The man takes a moment to process my choppy explanation, then nods. “Yeah, that’ll happen around here from time to time if you don’t keep your doors closed.”

  He looks over my shoulder meaningfully at the open front door, then back at me.

  Irritation is still behind embarrassment at this point, but it’s beginning to catch up.

  “I’m James,” the man says. He makes no offer to extend his hand, for which I’m absurdly grateful. “I’m your neighbor.”

  All of a sudden, a lot of things make perfect sense to me. The loud music, the weird hours, and, most importantly, the motorcycle. I had never seen the occupant of the house on the other side of the hedge, but it’s immediately completely believable that it’s this guy.

  “Do…do you have a phone?” I ask. “I’d very much like to call animal control.”

  James looks at me evenly. “Animal control?”

  “Yes,” I say. “Animal control. Someone in some kind of van to come out and get rid of it.”

  He hesitates. “We don’t have anyone like that around here. Sorry. Animal control is usually a broom used to shoo unwanted wildlife back outside.”

  I gawp at him. “A broom? You didn’t see the size of this snake. I think it might be a python.”

  He smiles. The expression is alternately charming and annoying.

  “I doubt it,” he says. “We got the python problem under control years ago. More likely it’s just a black snake. Those’re good if you have mice.”

  I scowl. “I don’t know if I have mice, but I am having a heart attack! I need it gone!”

  I realize that I’m practically naked. You’d have thought that I would have been more aware of that first, but sheer terror has a way of taking a front seat in one’s mind. Now, though, I’m quite conscious of the fact that I’m in my panties and a tank top. I make a brief, vain attempt at covering myself and give it up. I just look stupid trying. I’ll have to settle for being mortally embarrassed.

  “Probably a good idea,” James is saying. “It might be poisonous.”

  I moan and shuffle my feet helplessly.

  “But that’d be a copperhead,” he amends, “and you hardly ever find those inside the house.”

  “Then why’d you mention it?” I demand.

  He shrugs. “Just wanted to sketch in all the possibilities.” He looks to the open door again. “Want me to get rid of it for you?”

  I nod so hard, my vision shakes.

  “Okay, then,” he says. He steps around me and heads for the front steps
.

  “Wait a minute, wait a minute,” I call.

  He turns, curious.

  “Don’t you need an ax or something?” I ask.

  He smiles again, and while I can’t call it patronizing or indulgent, the expression annoys the hell out of me just the same. He’s just so damned easy about all this!

  “I think I’ll be all right,” he assures me and resumes his way up the steps. He pauses at the porch.

  “Where’s the bedroom?” he asks, looking back at me.

  For a moment, I can’t process what he’s asking and am flummoxed. Then, I manage to say, “Top of the stairs, first door. It’ll be the one with the giant, murderous snake in it.”

  “Copy that,” he says, then heads for the door.

  “Wait!” I call. He stops.

  “How’d you know it was in the bedroom?” I ask, whisper-shouting for some reason I can’t identify. My only other neighbors close by are on the other side of the street.

  “I didn’t think you’d just hang out in those,” he replied, nodding to my panties and tank top. He turns toward the door.

  “Wait!” I call again. He stops again, looking more amused than impatient.

  “Yes?”

  “How do you know I don’t…hang around the house dressed like this?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “I’ll go get your snake now.”

  He enters the house and starts up the stairs.

  “I’ll have you know that this outfit is very comfortable!” I whisper-shout to his back, but he disappears up the steps and out of my line of sight.

  It occurs to me that he doesn’t have a gun or a net or anything. How’s he going to handle the snake without these things?

  I muster my courage and come up the steps to the front porch. I can see my front foyer, warm and inviting, but can’t bring myself to go inside. Then there’s the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and his booted feet come back into view.

  James descends the stairs, carrying a pillowcase that’s knotted at the open end. Something inside shifts on its own, so there’s no doubt as to what it contains.

  “Gah!” I announce.

  “Relax,” he says. “Just a black snake like I thought.”

  “How did you catch it?”

  “I took the direct approach,” he says. “I picked it up.”

  “With your hands?” I ask, horrified.

  “Better than using my feet,” he answers.

  I start to thank him in spite of my annoyance at the flippancy of his replies, then stop.

  “Wait a second,” I say. “Is that one of my pillowcases?”

  He holds it up and glances at it. “It isn’t one of mine.”

  “How could you put a snake in one of my pillowcases?”

  “I don’t normally carry a pillowcase around with me,” he says. “And as far as how I did it, it was easy. I dropped the snake inside, then closed the open end.”

  “You…” I start, then stop. I’m not sure what I’d intended to say, but it would have been angry, and that would hardly have been diplomatic, given that my scaly intruder was still only half-disposed of.

  “Me, James,” he offers. “You?”

  “Me?” I ask, confused.

  “What’s your name?” he asks.

  It feels absurd to be chatting like this on my front porch in the middle of the night with him holding a reptilian nightmare in one of my pillowcases.

  “Lauren,” I answer. “Lauren McBride.”

  “Okay, then, Lauren McBride,” he says. “I’ll just be going now.”

  “Wait!” I urge.

  He rolls his eyes. “For someone who wants this thing gone, you sure do interrupt things a lot.”

  The undiplomatic part of my brain clears its throat, but I’m able to keep it quiet. For the moment.

  “I don’t have a bat,” I say.

  He blinks at me. “I know,” he replies. “You have a black snake. Good-sized one, too. No wonder you got freaked out.”

  “Not that kind of bat,” I snap. “A baseball bat.”

  “Why would I need a baseball bat?”

  Now it’s my turn to do some eye-rolling. “Aren’t you going to club it to death?” I ask.

  James favors me with another smile that could almost be interpreted as a smirk. “I’m not a caveman, you know,” he says.

  I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to control the undiplomatic voice welling up inside me.

  Instead, I say, “What are you going to do with it, then?”

  “There’s not much meat on a black snake,” he says. “But there’s enough to make some mighty fine jerky.”

  I stare at him, my jaw hanging open.

  “I’m joking,” he assures me. “I’m going to drive it across town and let it go in the woods.”

  “You can’t do that!” I gasp.

  “Sure I can. My motorcycle has all the accessories, and that includes a headlight. I’ll be fine.”

  “No! I mean, you can’t let it go!”

  “Why not?”

  “What if it finds its way back here?”

  He looks at me patiently. “It’s not a homing snake.”

  “There’s homing snakes?” I ask, aghast.

  He sighs. “Goodnight, Lauren,” he says, moving past me and down the steps, swinging the pillowcase at the end of one tattooed arm.

  Probably going to get a copy of it inked onto him somewhere to commemorate this lovely encounter, I think sourly. That is if he can find room anywhere for another tattoo.

  I realize I’m speculating in an offhand way where he might have other tattoos than the ones I can immediately see and feel my cheeks getting hot.

  “Hey!” I call out to him just before he steps around the hedge and into his own yard.

  “Yes?” he asks, now sounding the tiniest bit exasperated.

  This is my opportunity to mention to him that his loud music is very disruptive and could he please keep it down. That would be pretty ungrateful, though, plus it’s hard to play the outraged neighbor when you’re standing there in your underwear.

  I settle for, “Thanks.”

  He tips me a salute, and then he’s gone.

  A few moments later, there’s the rumble of his motorcycle, the one that’s so loud, I’m convinced it’s rattling the windows of my own house. He comes into view astride the thing, my pillowcase hanging from one handlebar.

  I feel like I should say something else, what I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. It would have been lost in the hellish roar of the engine as he guns it and speeds away. I watch until the red glow of his taillight rounds the bend at the end of our street. After a time, even the sound of his motorcycle fades and I’m back to the crickets again.

  My front door is still standing open. I step inside and close it firmly behind me. Suddenly, I’m exhausted, all the adrenaline departed from me.

  I shut off the lights and head upstairs to my bedroom. I note with irritation that there’s a caseless pillow on the floor.

  I suppose I should be thankful, though. If not for James, I probably would have spent the night sleeping in the tree in my front yard.

  That was one hell of a way to meet the neighbors.

  Chapter 2 – James

  I may be on an unexpected errand, but that’s all right. Any reason to be out on a night drive is a good one.

  I have the road to myself, which leaves me free to open up the throttle and go as fast as I please, which is pretty fast indeed.

  That McBride woman. What a piece of work. If she was any more uptight, she would just collapse in on herself and disappear.

  Nice legs, though.

  When I’d heard someone was moving into the house next door, I’d been out of town on a job and hadn’t thought much of it one way or another. I’ve never been a borrow-a-cup-of-sugar person to begin with. I couldn’t even tell you the names of the last people to live there, or how long they’d been there.

  The weeks had gone by and I’d never caught so
much as a glimpse of whoever was living there now. That was okay by me. As far as I was concerned, it was just another person or persons who’d be there for a while.

  My first hint that things might be a little oil-and-water between us had been when some teenaged kid had shown up one day to mow the lawn. It wasn’t a huge yard by any stretch of the imagination, took him maybe fifteen minutes to take care of. Who can’t spare fifteen minutes to take care of their own yard, I wondered at the time.

  There was that, and then there was the fact that the car in the driveway looked mucho expensive. I was getting the impression that whoever lived next door now, it was unlikely that we would be getting together in the back yard for beers any time soon.

  Oh, well, no loss, I figured. It’s not like we have to be best pals, anyway.

  And yet here I am, motoring across town on a snake-releasing mission for McBride. Apparently, the cup of sugar has been borrowed after all.

  When I judge that I’ve gone far enough, I pull over and dump the black snake out well away from the side of the road. It lies there for a moment, stunned by its rude relocation, then slithers off to parts unknown.

  Mission accomplished, I judge. Now what? It seems a shame to just go home since I am so firmly out at the moment.

  I look around and realize that I’m not too far away from the town’s only tavern. My previous thoughts of backyard beers come back to me. Problem solved.

  A short time later, I’m at the bar in Mitch’s. Predictably, by the way, there is no Mitch on duty. There is a Trudy, though, and she is tending bar tonight.

  “Evening, Trudy,” I say as she puts an open bottle on a coaster in front of me. She doesn’t even need to ask what I want. I love this place.

  “Hey, James,” she greets me. “You here on your own tonight?”

  “Looks that way,” I reply. It’s a long-running little joke between us. I’m always on my own when I come into the bar.

  “So what’s new?”

  “Well, actually, it’s funny you should ask,” I say. “Because up until a very short while ago, I had some company.”

  She puts down the rag with which she had been wiping the bar and gives me her full and undivided attention.