The Four Stages of Loving Dutch Owen by Debra Kayn

Author:Debra Kayn [Kayn, Debra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Age Gap, motorcycle club romance, Biker Romance, older hero younger heroine, family saga, saga, saga romance, kidnapped romance, Crime, organized crime, prison romance, action and adventure romance
Publisher: Debra Kayn
Published: 2021-01-29T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 20

THE DEW ON THE GRASS soaked the toes of Marla's sneakers. Marla stood in front of the unlocked shed door. After six months of living at the house, she was determined not to let another day go by without finishing the last job on her list.

She set the broom and shovel against the outside of the shed and pulled on her rubber gloves.

Going inside was much more complicated than putting up with the nauseating odor she'd prepared for and expected. At one time, the shed was her haven away from all things bad and scary.

To go inside, she had to step into her past. A past she was determined to overcome.

She slowly opened the door. Holding her breath, she waited to see if anything would scurry out.

Her stomach rolled. The last time she'd gone inside the shed, she ran there, seeking safety. A place that would protect her from the truth—that her mom was dead. News that Dutch had given her and had expected her to accept.

She shivered, hoping the rodents had given up and found another home.

Grabbing the broom, she stepped inside, being careful where she planted her feet. She wielded the broom, striking out into the air, knocking down cobwebs. As she cleared the area in front of her, she concentrated on the low rafters, then the corners.

Once she was sure the spiders were out of the area above her head and on the ground, she hurried outside, walking into the middle of the yard. Inhaling deeply, she could still smell the decaying odor left over from her childhood. The scent probably clung to her nostrils.

Pacing back and forth, she talked herself into going back inside. The worst part of the job was still to come.

Last weekend, she'd dug a hole to the right of the shed and hoped it was big enough to dump the filth and debris in.

She raised her arm to wipe the perspiration from her forehead, remembering the germs and whatnot rotting away inside and stopped before she touched her face. She felt filthy and contaminated, and she'd only begun cleaning.

With tonight a workday at the pool hall, she forged forward with the shovel in hand. There was no easy way to clean the shed out but to remove everything on the dirt floor.

Four hours later, she dumped the shovel and broom by the back door and peeled off the dirty gloves, letting them fall to the ground. She'd worry about throwing them away on another day after she took a shower and scrubbed herself clean.

Stripping her body inside the house, she carried the filthy clothes straight to the garbage. She wouldn't miss them. They were old and not something she'd wear in public.

In the shower, the water ran cold before she could pull herself out. Glancing at her cell phone, she had enough time to get dressed and eat a sandwich before she needed to leave for work.

Surprised that cleaning out the shed had taken up most of the day and the whole time, she'd only thought of Dutch two or three times.

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