Tangled Up in Blue

Chapter 1

Keegan

I pull up to my new home and see some guy sprawled on the front porch, blocking the damn door. He’s lying on his stomach, wearing only jeans, his forehead pressed into sagging boards. Probably passed out.

I let out an exasperated sigh. All I want is to move in. I’m so not in the mood to deal with some drunk mess.

I left the Cooke Ranch just after dawn, eager to start my new college life. It’s been a tense summer under the same roof as my grandmother, and I was so wound up from battling with her I barely got any sleep last night.

As soon as I step out of the car, I hear Mr. Drunk Mess talking. To the porch, apparently. “Max. C’mere, buddy. You can come out now.” His voice is tender and deep; he doesn’t sound drunk.

I close the door, maybe a little harder than necessary, and walk toward the house. Even with my sunglasses on, the bright sunlight makes it hard to focus. When I do, I see the guy is on his feet, his hands wrapped around two of the porch posts, his bare feet hanging over the edge. He’s squinting into the sun, staring at me.

And I cannot help staring back. Because, drunk or not, the guy is easy on the eyes: tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair and a square jaw. He’s got jacked-up arms and washboard abs. And even several feet away, I can tell he’s got amazing eyes. They’re light-blue, and they remind me of the summer sky at the ranch when the sun has bleached the color from the horizon, and it’s too hot to even think straight.

His eyes are mesmerizing. And I’m just standing here, gazing into them.

A slow smile climbs his face. “You our new roomie?” he asks as my mouth falls open.

Does he live here? I’d just assumed—like a lame, sheltered freshman—that everyone living at the house was a girl. “Um, yeah, I guess I am,” I mumble as my heart speeds up.

He steps off the porch and walks toward me, sticking out his hand. “I’m Blue Daniels.

Looks like we’re going to be housemates.”

And I say nothing. I’m freaking tongue-tied, my stomach suddenly doing calisthenics.

This gorgeous guy lives here, in the same house where I’m going to be living?

After a couple of moments where my mouth opens and closes like a fish, I whirl toward my old Nissan Maxima, yanking open a rear door and pulling out an egg crate stuffed with my things. Then I turn back, my face burning. Blue Daniels still has his hand out.

But now he’s wearing an amused smirk.

He can probably tell the effect he’s had on me. I’m probably feeding his ego right now.

“Oh, sorry,” I fumble, embarrassed, as I shift the crate I’m holding to one hip and slip my fingers into his “I’m...Keegan?” I sound like I don’t know my own name.

“Keegan Crenshaw,” I add more forcefully, breaking into a sweat. It is ridiculously hot, which is not unusual for an August day in Oklahoma. But I don’t think I’m sweating just because of the weather.

“Keegan,” Blue muses, his smile widening and those sky-blue eyes warming. “Cool name.”

“Thanks,” I murmur. “I like your name, too.”

He shrugs. “My mom was obsessed with Dylan when she was pregnant with me.” Seeing my blank expression, he prompts, “You know … Tangled Up in Blue? Bob Dylan?”

It takes my stupid brain a moment to catch up. “Oh!” I finally manage to say. “Yeah, I know that song. Wow, that’s…um…cool.” Why do I sound so lame?

“Yeah.” He’s nodding as a fond smile crosses his face. “My mom loved everything Dylan did. She still listens to him a lot.”

Hearing Blue mention his mother makes me think about mine, and as usual, a wave of grief and guilt washes over me. I sometimes wonder if that feeling will ever go away.

We stand there awkwardly for another moment. Over the daytime buzz of insects, I think

I hear something moving under the front porch. Scanning the house I’m about to move into, I wonder if the place has rodents or something. It sure looks more ramshackle in person than it did online, with rotting boards on the porch and siding that’s threatening to fall off in places. No telling what my room looks like; I’m kind of afraid to find out.

It’s not like I had much choice about taking it, though. I waited too long to apply for campus housing at Ikana College; even most of the off-campus housing was gone. The only thing I could find was a room in this old house. It supposedly comes with a bed and a dresser.

Blue dips his head to intercept my distracted gaze and again gives me that sexy smile.

And suddenly, I’m not thinking about the house anymore. Good grief. Get yourself together.

“I heard you’d be moving in today,” he says. “But we didn’t expect you quite this early. Pretty sure I’m the only one up.”

I guess I should have known not to show up before noon. The property manager told me the existing tenants sleep late on weekends. “They’re college kids,” she explained over the phone. “I’ll let them know you’re coming, and I’ll be by in the afternoon with the key.”

I suppose I could have dawdled longer this morning, stayed in my room, and avoided my grandmother. She probably wouldn’t have come looking for me. But I was desperate to drive away from the ranch and all its memories. So I headed south, to the little college town of Hickory Flat. And I’ve spent the last couple of hours just killing time, driving around, and getting to know the place where I’m going to spend the next four years.

The clock in my car said it was exactly 10 a.m. when I pulled up. That ought to be late enough.

“Look at me,” Blue’s voice bursts into my thoughts, “just standing here chatting while you’re holding that.” He reaches for my heavy crate. “Let me help you unload.”

His arms rub against mine as he pulls the crate from me, and my heart speeds up even more. “Fuck, it’s hot,” he complains, setting my crate on the front porch and wiping an arm across his forehead as he straightens.

And my eyes, with no permission from my brain, fixate for a second on his well-defined abs. Stop it.

Blue flashes a grin, like he knows what I’m thinking, then steps back to my car and pulls out one of my boxes.

I rush over to yank open the other rear door and slide another box across the seat. It feels weird to have this guy I don’t even know helping me. And I’m freaked out at the way I’m reacting to him.

I mean, it’s normal, I guess. He is seriously sexy. But I don’t want to start off my college career by falling into bed with my roommate. Pretty sure that would lead to complications I don’t need. I just want to get up to my room and unpack. Alone.

“Come on, new roomie,” Blue pipes up, moving toward the porch again. “I’ll show you around.”

After a moment’s hesitation, I follow him up the steps. But then I come to an abrupt halt a few feet away, gasping as I take in the web of thickened scars fanning across his back.

There must be a dozen of them. They look like burn marks. Maybe he was in a terrible car accident. Or maybe someone did that to him. My heart flips over at the thought.

“Old war wound.” Blue’s terse words interrupt my speculating. Obviously, he noticed the way I was staring. He looks toward the sun-soaked street, his jaw tensing. “I don’t like to talk about it,” he adds, and I nod, awkwardly.

I’d like to ask what happened to him. But we just met. And his words, not to mention the suddenly closed-off look on his face, keep me quiet; it’s none of my business.

Blue shifts the load he’s carrying to free up a hand and pushes open the front door, then gestures for me to go ahead of him. “Welcome to your new home,” he says with a version of the affable grin he wore earlier.

It makes my stomach flutter again to see it. I walk through the door and look around in amazement.

Chapter 2

Keegan

Two kegs sit in the far corner of the living room, and dozens of plastic cups litter the floor. With the windows that line two sides of the room open and a hot wind blowing through, I can smell the stale beer.

There’s nothing else in the room; not a stick of furniture. And obviously, they aren’t running the air-conditioning. Or there is no AC. Yikes. Living without AC in an Oklahoma summer will not be pleasant.

The living room floor squeaks with each step I take into the house; my flip-flops stick to the boards. I see the kitchen through an entryway on one side of the stairs that rise from the middle of the far wall.

There’s a closed door on the other side of the stairs. I’m assuming it’s a bedroom. Blue crosses the living room and sets his share of my stuff on the stairs, and I do the same.

“So, you had a party in here last night, I guess?” I ask, pulling off my sunglasses and tucking them into the front of my shirt. “You moved the furniture somewhere?”

Blue crouches to pick up a drumstick lying on the floor and slides it into his jeans pocket as he stands up. “No furniture in this room,” he responds with a tight smile. “Makes it easier for the bands to set up.” He laughs as my jaw drops. “You know we have parties here most weekends, with live bands, right? We’re known all over campus for our parties.”

“Uh, no.” I run a distraught hand through my hair. “I didn’t know that. The only time I’ve been on campus was for my interview last spring.” I sound less than thrilled because I am. This place is apparently the 21st-century equivalent of Animal House.

Great. Just great. “Wow, that’s something I wish I’d known about,” I can’t help adding. I’m pissed, mostly at myself. Why did I put off deciding on Ikana for so long?

I had to fight to get into the college’s top-notch journalism program, and I’ve got a full load of classes my first semester. How am I going to get straight As and work my ass off at the campus newspaper—assuming I can persuade the editor to give me a job—if I’m living in a party house?

“Last night’s band was a good one,” Blue says, as if that makes a difference. “The lead singer’s kind of a douche, but he’s got a great voice.” He chuckles at the dismal expression on my face. “C’mon, Keegan. It’s not that bad. You’ll meet a lot of cool people.”

I just look away. Then I hear what sounds like a dog whining from the front porch.

Blue glances out the living room window. “That’ll be Max,” he says. “I need to get him inside.”

Uncertain what to do next, I follow him out to the porch and notice a long canine snout thrust through one of several holes. It’s in the same spot Blue was lying when I first pulled up.

“There you are.” Blue smiles down at the friendly dog eyes staring up at him.

“Oh!” I exclaim. “That’s who you were talking to when I first got out of the car.” Now it’s making more sense.

Blue nods, still smiling. “Yeah, that’s Max. I forgot to lock him in my room last night, and all the noise from the party freaked him out. When he gets scared, he hides under the house.” He whistles, and the dog disappears under the porch. “I left the kitchen door open for him. He’ll show up in the house in a minute.” He waves me back inside. “Let me show you your room, and then I’ll bring in the rest of your stuff.”

I should carry in my own possessions; I don’t need him to do it. But I forget about pointing that out because Blue is yawning and rubbing his muscular abs, and my mutinous eyes can’t stop ogling him. How am I supposed to live under the same roof as this guy?

Blue yawns. “The only problem with the parties is cleaning it all up the next day.”

Nope. Not the only problem. I suppress another irritated sigh; I may have really messed things up.

Blue heads back into the house, holding the door open so I can follow. “It’ll probably be a while before the other two lazy asses are awake,” he says. “You can meet them later.”

We head up the stairs, and I shudder as I stare again at the poor guy’s scarred back. I’m dying to know what happened to him. What did he mean when he said it was a war wound?

From a window halfway up the stairs, I see a back deck that is strewn with more cups. Is the entire house trashed? I almost run into Blue when he pauses to stare at something in the yard.

“Max!” he yells out the open window. “What are you doing out there?” He lets out a piercing whistle. “Max, come inside!”

After a moment, he yells again. “Corey? Is that you? Man, why are you still here?”

I peer around Blue in time to see a German Shepherd sniffing a grubby-looking guy with bushy hair who is slowly getting up from the ground. He’s rubbing his eyes and blocking the sun with his hands.

“Corey! Go home!” Blue laughs and continues up the stairs. “He’s a member of the band. Passed out in the yard last night, I guess.”

“So is Max your dog?” I ask, trying to avoid staring at his back and needing something to say.

“He’s kind of the house dog, although I’m the one who takes care of him most of the time. He showed up here one day, mangy and starving. We tried to find his owner, but no one ever claimed him. We kinda hated to take him to the pound.”

“Aw. Poor thing.”

We reach the top of the stairs, and I glance from right to left at three closed bedroom doors. There’s also a bathroom, with an old-fashioned claw-foot bathtub inside.

Blue sets my possessions in front of the bedroom across from the bathroom. “You’re the last one in, so you get the smallest room,” he says apologetically. “But at least the AC unit in that room works well.” He points at the door next to mine. “That’s Kendra’s room. And I’m next to her. Hunter’s got the big bedroom downstairs, the only one with its own bathroom. His stepdad owns this house, and trust me, he won’t let you forget it.”

He turns the knob and pushes my door open, then steps aside to let me pass. “Here we are.”

I walk into the room and gasp at the sight of a naked couple passed out on my bed.

Chapter 3

Blue

Keegan almost drops her dentures—as my mother would say—when she sees Hunter and some blonde sprawled bare-ass on the bed.

At least Keegan is getting the full picture on Hunter up front.

Quite literally, as the asshat is lying on his back on the bare mattress, with nothing left to the imagination.

Random blonde is curled up next to him, snoring softly, her mouth open and a line of drool on her chin.

I have no idea who she is. I can’t remember seeing her before, but that’s no big surprise. We get new people every weekend.

And she certainly looks like Hunter’s type: hot and “breezy”—his slang for an easy broad.

Hunter’s not exactly Mr. Sensitivity when it comes to women.

Why he steered her into Keegan’s room instead of his own last night, I have no clue. Maybe he already had a girl, or two, passed out in his room downstairs. I wouldn’t put it past him.

Our new roomie is just standing there, gawking wide-eyed at them.

There’s something quirky and coltish about this girl that I kind of like. She’s got legs that go on for days, just the right amount on top to fill out the little black

tank she’s wearing, and long, glossy brown hair that I immediately want to bury my face in.

Physically, she’s definitely my type. And, assuming my man radar is in good working order, the attraction between us is mutual. Keegan wants me; I can feel it.

You’d think I would’ve learned my lesson about hooking up with housemates, after the whole Kendra drama. But what the hell. We’re all adults. And I would like to get to know Keegan better.

Thing is, though, when she took off her sunglasses in the living room and I saw her eyes, I almost choked. The memory slammed into me of another girl on the other side of the world with eerily similar eyes: same color, same shape, same old-soul expression. It freaked me out. Spotting the drumstick on the floor gave me a reason to bend over for a moment so I could hide my face and get my shit together.

It’s not the first time since I became a civilian I’ve suddenly been on the verge of tears.

Maybe I’m trying to see that girl in other people; maybe I can’t let go of her memory.

I walk to the bed and twist Hunter’s big toe hard to wake him up.

At the same moment, Max runs into the room, his nails clicking on the wood floor. He goes straight to the bed and sticks his cold nose into the blonde’s nicely toned ass.

Yowling, Hunter and the blonde try to sit up at the same time and said blonde rolls off the bed and hits the floor, which gets Max barking, thinking she wants to play.

“Get that fucking dog away from me!” she screams, jumping to her feet while trying—pointlessly—to cover her privates with her hands.

Max keeps barking and rushes toward her, rearing up playfully. And she kicks him, sending him scrambling behind me like a coward. For a German Shepherd, the dog’s no canine cop.

“Hey!” I yell. “Don’t kick the dog! He’s just trying to play.”

She grabs her clothes off the floor and runs into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

“Jesus, Blue,” Hunter moans, cradling his head in his hands. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Seriously, dude?” I snarl. “Your girl just fucking kicked my dog!” I pick up Hunter’s boxers and throw them at him, then gesture toward Keegan.

“And our new roomie here,” I go on, “just had to walk into her room and see your nasty bare asses all over her bed. What the hell are you doing in here, anyway?”

Hunter clutches his underwear in one hand and squints painfully at the sun pouring through the window. Then he turns to Keegan, giving her a cocky smirk and a sloppy salute, running his eyes all over her.

“Hi sweetheart,” he drawls. “I’ve got to say, you are definitely an improvement over the last girl who was in this room. Welcome.”

“Get the fuck out so she can move in!” I yell, cursing under my breath as I move toward the bed, ready to grab the jackass by the hair and yank him off. I don’t outweigh him by much, but I’ll bet I’ve got better fighting skills than he does.

Hunter evades my grasp, rolling off the bed. Then, still naked, he throws a flirtatious grin at Keegan as he strolls past her and out the door...

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