Fakers Read online

  three

  Kyra woke with a start. Her heart still raced from her dream, where blood had rolled down her wrist, bumping over raised scars like speed bumps, trickling down her pinky. The sight had made her mouth water, made her crave for the jolt of awareness that came with the pain. Rubbing her pounding head, she blinked to clear her vision of the dream.

  But it wasn’t her head that pounded, she realized. It was her house filled with smashing, wrecking sounds. She surged out of her bed, adrenaline jerking her away from the remnants of her dream, and grabbed her baseball bat before she started down the stairs at a breakneck run.

  She skidded around the corner into the kitchen and came to a screeching stop. Hard rock blasted from a stereo on the counter. A man—a shirtless, very muscular and tattooed man—wielded a large mallet and was obliterating the cheap kitchen laminate floors with heavy, grunting swings that vibrated the floor beneath her feet. He reached down and ripped up a section nearly three feet wide, making the muscles in his inked shoulders stretch and strain.

  Clearly Hale Cooper had started work on her house this morning without bothering to knock and introduce himself. Just as he stopped swinging and looked up to see her standing in the doorway, Kyra realized she was only wearing panties and a baggy tank top with no bra. There were worse things she could be wearing though, she figured. Like nothing.

  Hale cocked a brow at her, and she noticed the dermal studs above it. He had a line of tattoos down his neck and across his chest. More ink lined both of his arms in an assorted mixture of words and images. He cleared his throat and turned down the radio.

  “Morning,” he said gruffly.

  “I’m sorry for rushing down here, but I didn’t expect you to start so early.” She swung the bat up and over her shoulder without bothering to cover herself up. She was certain Hale had seen it all before, and maybe she was giving him a little show anyway.

  Her overly cheerful laughter fell flat. He just stared at her a minute before he said, “I wanted to get a feel for things before the crew gets here.”

  Kyra noticed he didn’t bother to apologize. “Oh, okay.” She smiled, sticking out her hand. “I’m Kyra. And you must be Hale.”

  He stared at her offered hand, but didn’t bother to shake it. “Yeah.” He raised his mallet and crashed it down into the floor again. The loud bang made Kyra jump and giggle nervously.

  “Well…” she fumbled, blushing with embarrassment as he ripped up another section of flooring. “It’s really great to meet you. I look forward to your work on my house.” Kyra grimaced; she had no clue what she was saying. “Or whatever.”

  Hale sighed heavily as if she was annoying him. He raised his brows and made a point of looking her up and down. “Do you really want to be down here in your underwear when my crew gets here?”

  “Oh, well, you just surprised me is all. I normally wear clothes when I meet people for the first time.”

  “Sure.”

  He reached over and cranked the radio back up, effectively dismissing her. Before he could raise his mallet for another swing, Kyra walked around him and gathered her groceries up in her arms.

  “If your crew is anything like you, I guess I don’t have much to worry about,” she muttered under her breath.

  She sensed Hale’s narrowed eyes on her as she walked out of the kitchen, toting her bat and groceries. She probably looked like an idiot, but that bothered her even less than Hale Cooper seeing her in her underwear the first day she met him. She knew she shouldn’t be too quick to judge since Cade had explained his brother was a little different, so Kyra tried to keep her less than favorable first opinion of Hale from forming in her mind on her way back to her bedroom.

  Not that she’d been around many guys in her underwear before, but she would’ve expected Hale to be a little more…interested.

  She changed upstairs quickly. When she came back downstairs, she wore her favorite board shirt and bikini bottoms. Her long blond hair was loose and wavy around her shoulders. Without sparing a glance into the kitchen, she walked to the back of the house.

  She grabbed her board and started for the water. The waves were stronger this morning, and she enjoyed herself. By the time she came in an hour later, her muscles were loose, and she was ready to face the day. She wrung out her hair and headed for her porch.

  In her garden, she caught sight of a disheveled Stevie watching her from across the fence line. She had a large glass of coffee and looked like she’d just woken up. Even from this distance, Kyra saw Stevie roll her eyes.

  “Overachiever!” Stevie shouted and flipped Kyra off before she went back inside.

  Kyra waved, laughing. Feeling light as bird bones, she put up her board and headed inside. She was still chuckling when she saw Hale had stopped working to watch her, his eyes flicking between her and Stevie’s house. Humming to herself, she smiled at him and headed upstairs for a bath since her little bathroom didn’t have a real shower yet.

  When she got out, the sounds of hammers and demolition had amplified tenfold. It sounded like Hale’s crew had arrived, and they were wasting no time in tearing her house apart. Kyra sighed and sat down at her computer.

  “Guess I won’t be starting a new video today,” she said under her breath.

  Instead, she spent the morning editing a few makeup tutorials and jamming to the music that flooded through her headphones. She checked all her social media sites and posted some more pictures. Logging onto her blog, she responded to comments and scheduled a few posts for the week. The website made up the main source of her income, since she could advertise or position certain products that she liked, while her videos just supplemented her brand.

  Around lunchtime, her stomach began to gurgle with hunger pains. Sitting back against the mattress she’d stacked on the floor, she thought about texting Cade. She hadn’t had much time to explore the island yet, and it would be cool to have a native show her some of the non-touristy spots. Pulling out her phone, she sent him a text, to which he quickly replied.

  Cade: Sure! Be there in 30.

  Thirty minutes later, Kyra turned her computer off and headed downstairs in a pair of hot pink shorts and a white baggy tank top she’d picked up at a surfing competition. She pulled her hair into a ponytail as she walked down the stairs, tucking the loose strands of hair behind a stretchy teal headband.

  There were more people in her house than she’d expected. Without knowing it, her house had apparently become a warzone, with hazardous swinging hammers and shards of plaster flying through the air. Fifteen men stopped what they were doing, which mostly consisted of hardcore demolition, and looked up at her. “Hey y’all!” Kyra waved, smiling to ease the awkwardness. It didn’t help. “I’m Kyra.”

  “Nice to meet you, Kyra,” an older gentleman said. He came forward, setting aside his hammer, to shake her hand. “I’m Hale’s foreman, Chevy.”

  “Your name is Chevy?” she asked, her grin spreading.

  “It’s a long story,” he replied, looking sheepish.

  Just then, Hale walked in. He’d put on a faded t-shirt and his jeans, weighed down by his tool belt, hung low on his hips. Saliva pooled in Kyra’s mouth before she remembered to swallow.

  “What the hell is everyone doing? Get back to work!”

  With that, the men jerked back into action and the cacophony started up again. Kyra cringed and hurried to the front door, sparing a quick glance over her shoulder. Hale had his back to her and was hammering a large hole in one of the walls.

  Outside, the day was beautiful with a nice sea breeze. Kyra took a deep, cleansing breath and looked up just in time to see a herd of her neighbors making their way down her overgrown path in the front garden. Nerves fluttered in her stomach, just like they did whenever she was surrounded by a large group of women. She always felt as if she was being judged, and by the disgusted looks on the women’s faces and their whispered tittering, Kyra knew that was exactly what was happening.

  “Morning, y’all!”
Kyra said brightly—too brightly. Her voice cracked slightly.

  The women all looked up and plastered huge smiles on their faces. The leader, who wore a bright yellow dress and orthopedic white shoes, spoke first. “You must be Kyra Aberdeen! My name is Betsy Harrison. I live just there.” She pointed over her pudgy shoulder to a traditional Victorian across the street. She looked back at Kyra and smoothed her tightly curled hair down.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Harrison! You have a beautiful house. I apologize for my garden being so…um…prickly.” Kyra giggled nervously. “I haven’t had time to work on it any.”

  “We understand, dear.” Another woman stepped forward wearing a billowing sundress that made her hips look ten times larger than they actually were. “I’m Marla Walker. My house is on the other side of Stevie Andrews.” The way Mrs. Walker said Stevie’s name left little to the imagination. Apparently these were the neighbors Stevie had said would try and convince Kyra that she was crazy.

  Mrs. Harrison wrinkled her nose. “That girl is trouble. You would do good to steer clear of her. We have to complain to the police at least once a week about her loud, devil-worshipping music. Of course, with parents like hers, it’s no wonder the girl never learned any proper manners.”

  “Oh…” Kyra nodded, feeling like an ass for not defending Stevie. She didn’t know what else to say, so she asked the most obvious question, even though she already knew the answer. “Who are her parents?”

  “Some reality show stars out in California,” Mrs. Walker said, waving her hand in front of her nose as if she’d smelled something foul. “And you know how those Californians are.”

  “That’s unfortunate,” Kyra murmured, not revealing she was actually from California. She felt about a foot tall in front of these women, and shrinking by the second. Inwardly, she cringed at being such a pushover.

  “Very much so, bless her heart.” Mrs. Harrison’s kind words did nothing for the mean tone she spoke them in. “Well, we just wanted to come by and welcome you to the neighborhood. I made you my special chicken casserole. Marla here made you some of her orange-filled éclairs.”

  Mrs. Walker stepped forward and deposited a Tupperware container on top of the one Mrs. Harrison had already laid in Kyra’s outstretched arms. “Oh, thanks!” Kyra exclaimed, shifting under the hot weight of the food. She was a vegan, which meant she couldn’t eat the chicken meat and likely whatever dairy was in the gooey, calorie-ridden mess of the éclairs.

  “Now, Kyra,” Mrs. Harrison said. She stepped forward and put her arm around Kyra’s shoulders. Together, they and the other women of the neighborhood surveyed her garden. “Our local garden club chapter will be by next week to take pictures of our gardens. For years now, we’ve had to crop out this particular…area. Mrs. Walker and I believe this eyesore is the very reason we haven’t won the state’s first place prize in all these years. So…”

  Kyra caught the meaning clearly, but Mrs. Walker interjected with her honey-dipped voice, “So, sweetie, it would just mean the world to us if you could get this mess cleaned up soon.”

  “Oh, sure.” Kyra blushed. The heat from the containers scalded her arms, but she gritted her teeth and tried to move them to lesser fried flesh spots. “I’ll do that as soon as possible.”

  “Perhaps today, dear?” Mrs. Harrison suggested.

  “Today?” Kyra caught the looks of the women, and quickly changed her answer. “I mean, sure! I can do that today.”

  “Wonderful! Now about the outside of the house…we want to run a few neutral colors by you. See, we don’t want your house to clash with ours.”

  “Oh…” Kyra looked down the road, desperately hoping Cade would pull up.

  “Morning, ladies!”

  Kyra jumped, rattling the food in the containers. Hale swooped down the steps and barged into the middle of the group. Mrs. Harrison released her viselike grip on Kyra’s shoulder and quickly stepped away from Hale, like he was the devil himself. As if he knew her discomfort, he took the containers from Kyra, who quickly hid the red burns behind her back.

  “Hello, Mr. Cooper. We were just welcoming Kyra to the neighborhood,” Mrs. Harrison said primly. She sniffed and smoothed her hair again. Even from her distance, Kyra smelled the loads of hairspray the woman had coated her brittle hair with.

  “Is that what you were doing? Cause it kinda looked like a railroadin’ to me.”

  “Excuse us?” Mrs. Walker said, her mouth gaping open.

  Hale went on as if he hadn’t heard her. “Kyra can’t do much in her garden until we get the foundation fixed. Guess your first prize in the Petunia Patrol will have to wait another year.”

  Mrs. Harrison sniffed. “Mr. Cooper, I’ve never in all my life—”

  Hale laughed. “I highly doubt whatever was about to come out of your mouth.”

  Just then, Cade pulled into the drive, and from the worried look on his face as he jumped out, he already knew what was going on. “Morning, Mrs. Harrison! Looking good, Mrs. Walker!” he called as he rushed through the garden’s gate. “Hale,” he said, nodding to his brother as he came up to the group.

  “Funny seeing you here.” Hale shot a meaningful look at Kyra as if he knew exactly why Cade was here.

  “Not all that funny,” Cade said patiently. “Just taking Kyra for a tour of the island. Oh, Mrs. Harrison! Did you make some of that delicious chicken casserole?”

  Cade redirected the ladies’ attention to him as he fawned over their cooking abilities. They’d completely forgotten about Hale after a moment. Kyra turned to him and whispered, “Can you let your crew know they can eat that for lunch? It’ll go bad without a refrigerator.”

  He shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

  She watched him walk back into the house. She didn’t know if he’d rescued her or ruined her reputation with her neighbors. When she looked back at Cade, the ladies were all leaving and Cade let out a sigh of relief.

  “Mrs. Harrison has terrified me since I was a child,” he muttered under his breath. “And I am pretty sure Mrs. Walker used to be a man.”

  “Cade!” Kyra hissed, but she still laughed.

  “Are you ready for your tour?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “Sure! But can we be back earlier? I want to work on this garden some.” Kyra looked at the weeds and overgrown vines in dismay.

  “Do not let them bother you. All they care about is their stupid garden club.”

  They started toward his truck. She wasn’t surprised to see everything clean and orderly inside. Cade struck her as the kind of guy who wanted everything neat and in its place. As they pulled out of the drive, she said, “I don’t think I’ve made a good impression on your brother…”

  Cade shot her a worried glance. “He has not yelled at you or anything?”

  “Uh, no. Does he yell a lot?”

  “Well…” He clearly recalled some instances, but he skimmed over it. “He is just not much of a people person.”

  Kyra looked at the perfect houses with perfect gardens as they drove down the street. Weeping willows and blooming magnolia trees were dotted along the freshly paved road. Mrs. Walker was just entering her house, and Kyra didn’t miss the nasty look Mrs. Harrison gave the car as they went by. Clearly, Kyra’s new house had been the bane of Gardenia Street’s perfect existence.

  “I can tell,” she said.

  “Do not let the stuff with the neighbors bother you,” Cade said quickly. He turned off Kyra’s street and made his way toward town. “I know it looked like Hale was being an ass, pardon my language, but that was him just sticking up for you. He has always hated bullies.”

  She noticed the uneasy way he chewed on his lip. “Was he bullied when he was younger?” she asked, instantly feeling sorry for Hale.

  “Something like that…” Cade didn’t seem to want to talk about it, so she didn’t press the point. “People around here judge him really harshly. They see the piercings and the tattoos and they just assume he is a bad person, but
that is really not the case at all.” Cade glanced over at her nervously, as if he wanted to convince her about his brother’s character. “He is a good guy. He hates seeing anyone get picked on.”

  “Then why doesn’t he stand up for himself if everyone thinks so poorly of him?”

  Cade shrugged. “I have asked him the same thing many times. But he just does not care. He is going to be who he is with no apologies. People don’t like that. They want an apology for everything you say and do in this town.”

  “I think that’s brave,” Kyra said. “That he would just be himself and not worry what other people think.”

  “Hale is the bravest man you will ever meet then,” Cade said with a snort. “Sometimes I wish he would care a little more. It would help me out a lot.”

  She smiled. “Maybe some of that will rub off on me. I care too much about what other people think. Those women would’ve had me weeding in a few minutes if Hale hadn’t come out.”

  “You and me both,” Cade said with a laugh. “But just give him a chance. He does not have many friends, and I can tell you are an understanding person. He needs more of those people in his life.”

  “Of course.” Feeling guilty for her earlier mean thoughts about Hale, Kyra vowed to do better next time. “Thanks for showing me around today. I’m excited to see more of the town.”

  “No problem!” Cade rolled down the windows and turned on some music, which suited her tastes perfectly. She relaxed into the smooth leather and enjoyed the ride. “Do not let those ladies fool you, Canaan is actually a great place to live. The tourists keep it young and fresh, and you cannot beat living on an island.”

  They drove around, and by lunch, Cade had made her completely forget about the neighborhood ladies and her disastrous garden. With all the hilarious stories he told her about him and Hale growing up on the island, Kyra started to feel like she not only knew the Cooper brothers better, but that she knew the island better too. The cheery town with its downtown square and church bells ringing on the hour started to feel like home, and not once did Kyra feel the slinking pull of sadness. All her smiles were real and genuine, and that was the best feeling of all.