Southern Hospitality

02

Introduction To Scum

Dinner was a tense one.

Rae kept shooting him heated looks and glowered darkly at Chloe, who looked ready to flee if the opportunity arose.

Derek speared a chunk of chicken and took a bit as he surveyed the table.

Tori was secretly texting Liz under the table, as per usual, probably complaining about being away from her three-year girlfriend.

Simon was talking quietly to Chloe, trying to draw her attention away from the prissy rich girl glaring at her.

Liam and Ramon were absent, which was expected.

Royce was staring at Chloe with a disgusting glint in his eyes, a taunting smirk flashing on his lips every time Derek glanced at him.

He knew what he was doing.

"S-so, um," Chloe said nervously, drumming pretty, pale fingers on the tabletop, drawing Derek's undivided attention from his stare down with Royce, "w-wh-what do you guys d-do here? On the f-farm, I mean."

A lock of curly hair fell into her face and, before he could comprehend or register he'd moved, he brushed it out of her face, his breath still in his lungs. Their eyes locked, in a stalemate, neither moving, blue against green, sky against grass.

Chloe's skin turned red in a flush and she broke eye contact.

Royce's lips were curved up, in a mockery of a smile, a sneer in his eyes. He was thinking and when Royce thought, it always ended in disaster.

Derek narrowed his eyes. "We clean the stables, brush down the animals, feed them, change their bedding, tend to the crops," he explained, turning his attention back to the blue-eyed beauty.

She was watching him earnestly now, intrigued.

Rae was mimicking her but her eyes were glossy and ran over his biceps in an unsettling way.

"We're pretty much self-sufficient," Simon quipped as he sipped his diet soda, tilting back onto two legs of his chair. His plate was empty, clean, the utensils thrown onto of his dingy paper napkin. "If one of us gets hurt, Dad's a doctor, er, well, ex-doctor and, if it's really bad like this one time, Derek and I were kicking 'round this ball and out of nowhere—" Derek shot his brother a dark look and he shut up immediately.

"Anyway, if Dad can't fix it, we go to the town hospital," Simon finished quickly.

"What came out of n-nowhere?" Chloe whispered to Derek, eyes round with curiosity.

Simon glanced at him and Derek shrugged.

"A little rat dog," the half-aisan boy said, mouth twisting like he'd bitten a lemon, "It tore through the muscles of Derek's hand and hit the bone. Damn thing was crazy. He's trying to shake it off, Dad's trying to pry it off and the lady's screaming, 'Don't hurt my little Toby!'" He shook his head in disgust.

Derek was sipping his water when he heard her snort, hand over her mouth and then she was laughing, head thrown back, rocking onto two legs of her chair with the force of her legs.

He watched her laugh, the sound clean and innocent.

Simon looked startled for a split second before he laughed too, loudly.

Derek felt his lips threaten to turn upright and hurriedly swallowed several mouthfuls of water.

"I don't believe we met," purred a voice from the end of the table that grated on Derek's nerves.

His eyes flickered to the voice's owner and Royce's taunting gaze met his.

"I'm Royce," said the slime ball, settling his intense eyes on Chloe, who squirmed uncomfortably.

"I-I-I'm Ch-Chloe."

He hummed in response and just…stared, for about three minutes before his attention was shifted to Rae, who became flustered and used her low shirt to her advantage.

Derek's lip curled.

"Chloe," he said softly, watching as she seemingly came out of a panic and blinked up at him, "stay away from him. He's nothing but trouble." As if he could hear him, Royce's head snapped up and his dark eyes locked on Derek's green ones.

A challenge gleamed in Royce's dark eyes as he pretended to listen to Rae's babbling.

Derek felt a rush race through his veins as the dark-haired boy turned his head away with a smirk. "He's trouble," Derek repeated in Chloe's eyes, his will firming into concrete.

He'd protect her and her innocence, even if it meant incurring the wrath of a son of a bitch like Royce.


The scalding water ran down his scarred back and he winced as the aches and knots of the day's labor melted away. Derek's hair clung to his closed eyelids as he stood under the hot spray, water rivulets running down his body, easing away grime and tension.

His brain was a whirlwind of thoughts; Chloe, Royce, Rae, the horse due with twins any time now, Simon, Kit, they swirled over and over and over in his brain until he slumped to the floor.

He knew he had to keep Royce's disgusting mutts off Chloe but how was he supposed to do it without Rae cramming her tongue down his throat? And the horse was due any time so he'd have to birth the foals by himself, since Simon and Tori refused to do it.

He groaned and fisted his hair, yanking at it. The pain distracted him and reminded him to breathe, to calm down. The back of his head hit the wall softly and he stared up at the ceiling blankly, trying to think.

He closed his eyes and slowly got up; his bones creaked and his muscles groaned in protest, sore and tender. He shut off the water and the steam made him dizzy, light-headed; it was weighing down on his nude body.

He turned away and his bare feet touched the cold tiles. Shivers danced across his skin. He wiped off the mirror to gaze at his reflection as he brushed his teeth and scrubbed at his face. His skin was still damp as he dressed in pajama bottoms and headed to the kitchen for a quick glass of water to help clear away the hot humidity from his shower. He walked passed the living room and paused. Someone was slumped on the couch. A closer inspection made him sigh.

Chloe had fallen asleep, a book laying open in her lap, head down.

Sighing at her, he reached the couch and leaned down, tucking his arms under her legs and across her back. She was light in his arms, so light.

Nobody else was awake; everyone was dead to the world. He carried Chloe back to her room, careful not to jostle her or bend the pages of her book. Using one arm to hold her, he wiggled the doorknob and managed to get it open.

Her room was messy, clothes everywhere. His face flamed when he noticed the bra hanging off the chair and the panties on the floor but he smiled down at her softly and laid her down on the bed, tucking the cool, pink sheets over her sleeping body.

He bookmarked her book and set it on the night stand and brushed her hair out of her face. She looked so young and peaceful while she slept so soundly.

It was he climbed into his own bed, wearing nothing but his boxers now, that his resolve became concrete: I'll keep Royce away from you, don't worry.