Smokey’s Turmoil by Erin Osborne
Chapter One
Jasmine
IT’S BEEN THREE days since the club threw me a birthday party. After the ol’ ladies took me out to a late lunch then a spa to get pampered, they dressed me and did my hair and make-up before we headed over there. I tried to resist going to the clubhouse, it’s not somewhere I’m needed or wanted. I’m not an ol’ lady and only work for Corrinth who has ties to the club. There is no reason for me to ever show up there. Not unless Phoebe needs me to grab something for her. Other than that, I always turn down invitations to go there. I was shocked beyond belief when I realized everyone was there to celebrate my day.
I haven’t been able to get what happened with Smokey out of my head. If anyone was going to take my virginity, I could only see it being him. He was gentle, kind, and made me feel small and sexy under his muscled body. Honestly, I couldn’t have imagined it any better than what happened. Yes, it hurt like hell. Smokey was still willing to stop what was going on between us. No one else would have done anything like that. Then, he let me have time to myself as I stood under the hot spray of the shower. Tears flowed down my cheeks at how special he made my first time. Others might not see it as anything special, but to me it was. Even without the hearts and flowers; that’s not something I need to ever have.
Smokey is always on my mind though. He’s sexy with his blond hair that always looks as if he’s either just woken up or been running his fingers through it. Blond stubble always covers his jaw too. Not a full-on beard, but enough to let others know he doesn’t care about his appearance and what they think about him. Don’t even get me started on hips. They are so full and softer than I thought possible for anyone. Smokey has grey eyes that change with his mood. When he’s pissed, they turn dark grey reminding me of the sky during a horrible storm. His body is a work of art between the muscles and tattoos covering his tan skin. That sexy as sin V I’ve always read about in my books is something Smokey has.
It’s not his looks that have me constantly thinking of him though. Smokey’s personality is what has always been the large draw for me. He’s silent and watches over me without me asking him or wanting him to. I can’t ever hide from him no matter what secrets I want to keep to myself. Smokey is that way with everyone he comes into contact with. He has given me a place to live, made sure I have everything I could want, and protects me while I’m at the diner working. No one says a word to me as he watches silently over me. I never have to feel anything other than safe and protected when he’s near me. Not a single person in my life has ever protected me. The man also notices the little things in life such as my not eating the food I bring home from the diner. In my eyes, Smokey is the total package. Any woman would be lucky to call them hers.
He barely smiles unless he’s with Ink and Phoebe. Those rare occasions he shows his magnificent smile are the times I always look forward to. His entire face lights up and those grey eyes I love looking into turn almost a silver color. Usually, he’s too quiet compared to the rest of the men. His voice sends shivers through me when he does speak though. It’s smooth and deep. The only time I ever here it harsh and laced with venom is when he’s pissed off. Those times usually revolve around someone saying something to me out of anger or defending me.
I’m not stupid enough to believe anything will ever happen between the two of us. Having sex with Smokey was a one-time deal. From what I’ve heard said in the diner and from the ol’ ladies, Smokey doesn’t take anyone into his bed more than one time. He doesn’t fuck the women at the club because they like to cause too much drama. When he chooses to find a woman for the night, it’s at a bar or anywhere when he’s out on the town. Women throw themselves at him on a daily basis. The women he’s with are all skinny, sexy, and could have any man they want. Men like Smokey who are also sexy. I’m as far from sexy as you can get honestly.
The night we were together is more than likely a night he felt sorry for me. I let him kiss me and in turn he made me feel sexy. That’s why I was with him that night. Since then, he hasn’t been back to the apartment and I haven’t seen him at the diner when I’m working. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn he’s avoiding me because he doesn’t want me to cling to him or make things up in my head about what we are or aren’t. Yes, he’s starred in every single one of my fantasies. That doesn’t mean I’m stupid enough to believe he wants to have anything to do with me outside of that one time. I’m not a lovesick fool who will try to get him in bed again or believe he’s my man. That’s not my style; it never has been, and I won’t start now.
Today is my day off at the diner. I’ve been pulling extra shifts to help Corrinth out, but she stopped me today. She’s worried about me working myself to death. I’m not in school and there’s only so much cleaning I can do at the apartment on a daily basis. Boredom fills me to the core, and I can’t stand it. I’m always doing something. Usually cooking and singing. Or reading. However, I can only read for so long during the day before I’m going crazy. Yeah, I’m that girl who could never stand to sit still no matter what my appearance makes others around me think.
On top of working at the diner, I discovered a channel on Smokey’s cable that shows workout routines. I’ve been doing them a few times a week to start out. My hope is to workout each and every single day for an hour or so a day. Until I can get to that point, I’ll make do with what I can manage. It gives me something to do and I’ve been feeling better about myself too. I’d die if anyone ever caught me though. I’m sure I look like a beached whale trying to get off the sand when I move to the routines on the TV in front of me. It’s my secret to keep as I work on becoming stronger and more self-confident each day.
I’ve been cleaning the apartment this afternoon after working out and taking a bath to relax my sore muscles. I’ll end up taking another shower later on after I clean and cook dinner. There’s a new recipe I found in a book I want to try. It’s a baked chicken dinner I’ll make roasted potatoes and steamed vegetables with. Smokey had some dirty laundry in the basket in the bathroom I washed and folded, leaving on the table for now because I’m not allowed to go into his room. after I’m done with my laundry, I’ll put his clothes in the basket. I always leave it outside of his door when I take the chance and wash any of his clothes.
I’ve gotten the laundry in the dryer, dishes from breakfast washed and put away, and have dinner out thawing so I can prepare it in a few hours. Whenever I use food or anything, I write it down on a list I keep in my room so I can replace it. There is no way in hell someone will tell me I’m not pulling my weight since this is not my apartment and none of the food has been bought by me. Smokey has bought everything I’ve used or been given since moving in with him almost three months ago. I will do everything in my power to pay him back for his generosity.
While my laundry is in the dryer, I begin to dust and clean off the tables in the living room. Smokey has glass topped tables at the ends of his massive leather couch and sitting in front of it. I have been using folded up napkins to ensure I don’t leave rings on the tables though I typically clean them on a daily basis. Like I said, boredom consumes me, and I have to stay busy at all times when a book can’t keep my attention. The TV is playing Without Me by Nate Moran as I clean the apartment. I’ve built a few playlists on Spotify to listen to as I clean or lounge back and read.
As I walk from the end table to the coffee table sitting in front of the couch, I trip on something. There is nothing to reach onto so I can stop myself from falling face first into the table. Tossing my hands out in front of me, my arms go through the glass as it shatters. Glass shards cut into my arms, face, and chest as I land on top of the glass and metal frame of the table. I cry out in pain and embarrassment even though no one is here. Smokey is going to be so pissed off at me. Tears spill down my face as I lay still for a few minutes. I’m not going to be able to get up very easily without cutting more of my skin open. I’m screwed.
Finally, I carefully push myself up off the floor. As predicted, glass penetrates my palms and I cry out even more as the song playing on TV is the only noise in the apartment. Walking to the bathroom, I know there are pieces sticking in the bottom of my feet as well. With the way it shattered and went all over the floor, there is no way to believe I got away without cuts on the bottom of my feet. Closing the door of the bathroom, I remove my clothing so I can pick the pieces of glass out. It stings as I carefully pull out one piece after another. This is going to take forever, but I don’t want to risk getting an infection because I left something in my skin.
I’m not sure how long I stand in front of the mirror, picking out the glass. Tears stream down my cheeks the entire time with squeals of pain mixed in. To say I’m a mess right now is an understatement. Finally, all of the glass is out of my arms, chest, face, and palms. Sitting down on the closed toilet seat, I begin to pull pieces from the bottom of my feet. As I knew, there are several small slivers of glass under my skin. These ones take even longer to pull from my body. They also hurt more for some reason. Or maybe the adrenaline has finally worn off and I’m feeling each and every sting and pain now.
When the glass is finally out of my body, I step into the shower. Since I didn’t want to let the water run wastefully, I don’t turn it on until I’m in the shower. A blast of cold water hits me dead on as I scream out. I don’t move or get out of the way as it takes some of the sting away before the hot water washes down over me. I watch on as my blood mixes with the water before swirling down the drain. The stinging sensation filling me is even worse now. It’s only going to hurt more as the shampoo, conditioner, and body wash rinse down my body.
Still, I take my time in the shower because I know I’m going to be slow moving until the self-imposed wounds heal. Yes, I consider them self-imposed because if I weren’t such a damn klutz this wouldn’t have happened. Finally, I get out of the hot water, dry myself off, and change into clothes I have lying on the end of my bed for tonight. It’s not ideal because it’s merely a cami and pair of pajama shorts that do nothing to cover my body. Once I’m dressed again, I make my way back to the bathroom to clean the counters and make sure there is no glass around for anyone else to get cut on.
Back in the living room, I put away the chicken in the refrigerator because I’m not going to be standing in the kitchen long enough to cook it, and I don’t want it to go bad before Smokey has a chance to cook it. Grabbing the broom and dustpan from the small closet all of the cleaning supplies are in, I don’t go near the broken table until I have my sneakers on my feet. I don’t want to get anymore glass in my feet. Now, I’ll have to throw my sneakers out though because I’m still bleeding.
Sweeping up all of the glass, I double check everywhere before realizing there is nothing more for me to sweep up. Dumping the shards in the garbage can, I fill the mop bucket with steaming hot water. Before I begin mopping the living room, kitchen, and bathroom to remove any blood I may have left behind, I pick up the mangled table frame and place it by the door to take out to the dumpster. Mopping the floor, I don’t miss a single speck of blood as I make my way through the house. While the floor is drying, I sit at the table with my purse next to me. I keep all of my spare cash in there in a hidden compartment.
Pulling it all out, I leave most of it on the table for Smokey. I’ll write him a note before I’m done and leave his apartment. He has the right to know why I’m no longer living here. He’s going to be so mad at me for messing up his table. Honestly, I’m surprised I haven’t done more damage to his apartment with falling and tripping over absolutely nothing more than air. Grabbing an envelope from the cabinet Smokey keeps them in, I place the cash inside before sealing it and writing his name on the outside. Next, I head to my room to begin packing my things in the few duffle bags I have.
It doesn’t take me long to pack my new clothes, the gift cards, presents, and shoes I have in my possession. Everything I own can fit in a few bags and it makes my heart break to realize I’ll never have a stable home at the rate I’m going. All of the money I’d been saving to get my own place will now be Smokey’s to replace everything I’ve used and to replace his table.
Over the year I’ve been on the road so my father couldn’t find me, I’ve learned to only keep what I absolutely need. My clothes get rolled up instead of folded because I can fit more into my bag. I have learned to make things as small as possible in order to keep as little with me as possible. Especially the blankets I have saved from my mom. No one will ever get their hands on them if I can help it. However, it was nice to be out of the car, I never expected to go back this soon. I should have realized living in someone else’s space was never meant for me.
After everything is packed with the exception of my purse, and tablet, I begin to write Smokey a letter. Maybe it’s time to move on from Shadowville altogether. I can live somewhere else where no one knows me. It’s not as if I ever believed I’d make this small town my permanent home anyway.
Smokey,
I want to thank you for everything you have done for me. You took a chance and let me into your home. I’ll be forever grateful for everything you did while I was here. For the first time in my life, I felt safe and protected. That’s all because of you.
I’m truly sorry for breaking your table. I don’t know what happened as I was attempting to clean and fell into the glass top. I’ve done my best to clean up the mess I made, and the frame is going to be in the dumpster. There is an envelope of money for you. Not just for the table I damaged beyond repair, but for the food I’ve eaten and anything else I’ve used while staying in your home.
As for what happened at the clubhouse, you don’t have to worry. I’m not going to make it out to be more than it was. One night in your bed. You made it special for me and that’s what I’ll remember as I move on with my life. I was never going to make you feel some type of way for taking my virginity. I’m not clingy and wouldn’t dream of believing it meant more than it did. If anything comes of that night, I will raise him or her with all the love I have to give. Other than letting you know about him or her, I will not bother you. Not for money or to be a part of our child’s life. You didn’t have to tell me you don’t want children. They will grow up knowing their father is a kind, gentle man in my eyes while a solid protector at the same time.
I am truly sorry for each and everything I have damaged and done while here. Especially dumping food and drinks all over you and the club while you were in the diner to eat.
Thank You,
J
A lone tear falls on the piece of paper, smearing the ink where my first initial sits. I’ve tried to make sure there is no blood on the paper from the cuts still bleeding as I fold it and stuff it in another envelope. Taking it out to the living room, I stop dead in my tracks as Smokey stands at the table with the envelope of money in his hand. He looks up at me as I hold the other one in trembling hands.
“What the hell happened?” he asks, his voice laced with concern as he rushes to my side.
“I’m so sorry. I fell into your table and it broke. I’ve cleaned up all the glass, so you don’t get cut,” I apologize to him.
“Let’s go make sure it’s all cleaned out of your skin.”
Taking the envelope from my hand, he shoves it in his back pocket before leading me to the bathroom once again. After setting me on the toilet seat, Smokey pulls a first aid kit from under the sink. He carefully smears ointment on my skin before wrapping bandages over the skin with the worst cuts that are still bleeding. Including my feet.
“Are you okay? Do you want to go to the doctor?” he questions me as he cleans up the mess from the ointment and bandages.
“No. Um, I’m fine thank you,” I tell him, standing up and sliding my flip flops back on my feet.
Heading to my room, I need a minute alone as I shut the door behind me. Leaning against it, I take several breaths as Smokey’s footsteps sound in the hallway. I realize too late he’s still got the letter I wrote him in his pocket.
